Morelia
by Ceara Einin
Summary: Years have passed. Rosamar and Darin have made a life together, and Caspian has a family of his own. But the danger that haunted Rose's world claims not only Caspian's wife, but his heir. Together, Caspian and Rose must find Prince Rilian and defeat the Emerald Witch once and for all. But at what cost?
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! At last, here is the sequel to Moonrose. I'm personally super excited about this, and I hope you are too! I'm hoping to finish the whole story this November. You can expect an update every week. And do leave a comment and tell me what you think, I'm always open to hearing suggestions!**

 **I do recommend reading the one-shots set between Moonrose and Morelia. They have some important character information in them, so if you haven't seen them yet, head over and read those before this. Thank you to wildhorses1492 and sarahwood for reviewing those one-shots!**

 ***Most importantly, thank you to wildhorses1492 for the AMAZING cover!**

 **Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters belong to CS Lewis, only my OCs are mine.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

All was according to plan. Perhaps, it was even better.

Her first idea was to take the prince and turn his mind to her ends, but when the mother was laying there so vulnerable, so oblivious, how could she resist the perfect moment to destroy the king even more? The disappearance of his son would break him, but if she got rid of the queen too, it would destroy him. He would never have another heir, not with the heartache she inflicted mere weeks ago.

First the death of his queen, and now the supposed death of his son. She would, of course, be sure that Rilian's death was indeed presumed. She still had much work to do with him, after all, and it would simply not to do have him roaming about above ground, where any soul could see him. No, she is taking him now to her realm, to the great and fearsome Underland where she has made the gnomes her servants and the very earth bends to her will.

The prince gazes over at her like a love-besotted idiot. Exactly as she has designed. He is already putty in her hands, but her enchantment can only last so long. She must get him to Underland, to her silver chair that can keep him in check when he forgets his new self and reverts to his old, nauseating, knightly ways. She has to hand it to King Caspian, he indoctrinated the boy well in the ways of That Lion.

She refuses to even think the name of so beastly a creature. Wild lion, untamed lion, hmph! What had this all-powerful lion done to stop her plans? He had not lifted one padded paw, one golden strand of fur to stand up to her. She can't help her smirk; Narnia is, and always was destined to be, hers.

With Rilian at her side, she will be unstoppable.

* * *

 **Review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**So I finished Chapter 1 pretty quickly so I thought I'd publish it a bit early so there'd more than 400 words on the story. Chapter 2 will be out in a week at most. It might be less if I get too excited. (Y'alls reviews do that to me...)**

 **On that note, much thanks to wildhorses1492 for the lovely review! And again for that cover, it still gives me happy tingles. :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **(Caspian POV)**

With a cry ringing of anguish and fury, Caspian, Tenth of that name, hurls himself toward Lord Drinian with his battle-axe in hand and the promise of death in his eyes.

His friend – no, not friend, no friend would do such a thing – stands his ground and bows his head.

No resistance.

Caspian raises the axe with the last breath of his battle cry sounding from his lips. Drinian doesn't move. He knows he has done unforgivable wrong, and…and…

He can't do it.

Caspian takes a great gasping breath and casts aside the axe with tears in his eyes. The metal sings as it hits the cold stone floor.

"I have lost my queen and my son; shall I lose my friend also?" he cries. And with a sob, he falls to his knees and embraces the Lord Drinian.

Not all of the tears falling are his own; Drinian, too, weeps for the loss of the Queen and the Prince. But their friendship will not be broken for this.

"Tell me what happened, Lord Drinian," Caspian gasps out. "I must know all if I am to find this murderous snake."

Drinian draws himself back from his king, straightening his back as he prepares to tell the whole mournful tale.

"My king, it began a month after the death of the Queen. Rilian came back from the routine hunts much changed. Some of us said he was seeing visions. At the time, I was sure the loss of his mother was becoming too much for his young mind."

Drinian's voice catches. He can't meet Caspian's eyes, and Caspian lets it go. He can barely lift his eyes himself.

"I tried to dissuade him from his quest, for there was little vengeance to be had in killing a mindless worm. It was not the work of man. It was then he told me he had all but forgotten the snake. I inquired as to his daily ventures; he declared he had seen the most beautiful thing that ever was made. I bade him allow me to accompany him the next day that I might see it for myself."

Hands shaking, Lord Drinian sinks back into his knees and puts his head in his hands.

"We rode out the next morning," he chokes out past his weathered fingers.

Caspian's heart quivers in his chest at the tale thus far. There is something else at work here than simple misfortune. When Drinian's words fail him, Caspian sets a hand on his shoulder and bids him continue.

"Go on, Lord Drinian," he urges his friend. "I must know all the ugly truth."

"Rilian alighted at the very same fountain where the Queen met her death, Your Majesty," he continues with a tremor in his voice. "I thought it odd that he should chose such a spot, but I said nothing. Come high noon, on the north side of the fountain there appeared the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, wrapped in a shining garment as green as poison. She said not a word, but merely beckoned to Rilian with her hand. And he stared at this lady like a man fully out of his wits. But suddenly she vanished, and we soon returned to Cair Paravel. I thought at once that there was something not right about this. And I said nothing, as I have told you…" It is quite clear that Drinian cannot go on any more; he buries his face in his hands once more and seems to have a great deal of trouble controlling himself.

Caspian senses that this is the whole tale, at least all that Drinian knows.

"Think you that the worm and the lady were the same?" he asks, gently so as not to startle his trembling friend.

"I do, Sire," Drinian answers with tears lingering in his voice.

"I think the same," Caspian says. "And now, if you will take me to the meadow, I must seek this demon out. It has taken my wife, and my son, but perhaps I can steal the next victim from its fangs before it deals the death blow."

"Your Majesty, you mustn't!" Drinian sits bolt upright at once and seizes Caspian by the shoulders. "You are the last of your line and the king of Narnia! If you are lost to us, we will all be ruined and only the Great Lion himself could save this land."

Caspian shakes his head and grasps Drinian by the arms to loosen his grip.

"And what else am I to do, my friend? I cannot sit by and do nothing. This worm has struck at the very heart of Narnia; what other havoc can it wreak with a mere twitch of its tail? No, I must put a stop to whatever it has concocted, and I must do it at once. Now will you aid your king and take him to the scene of these most heinous crimes?"

Drinian is no less frantic to stop the venture for Caspian's determination, but at length he has no choice but to listen to his king.

"Very well, Sire." Drinian finally relents with defeat weighing on his shoulders. "I will do all I can to aid you."

A dark piece of Caspian's heart whispers that it's the least Drinian can do after all that he has done, but the king quickly banishes the thought. He has chosen to forgive his longtime friend, and he will not allow himself to rehash things that will do no good.

"We will leave in the morning, Lord Drinian. But now, we will sup and put this horrid business to the side." Caspian helps his friend to his feet, the battle-axe catching his eye across the way.

In his heart, he knows he never would have forgiven himself had he taken the Drinian's life in payment for his son's. That is not the way of Narnia, nor is it the way of a king.

* * *

True to his word, Drinian indeed takes Caspian to that accursed fountain the next day. Caspian insists on being shown exactly where the green-robed beauty stood, and where exactly Drinian was sitting, and where exactly Rilian was sitting. At the thought of his lost son, Caspian's agony returns to stab at his heart, but he has no choice but to push it aside. Rilian would have wanted to see the worm finished.

Is it not usually the son who finishes the father's work, not the other way around?

How the world has turned since Caspian was a young man.

"There she stood," Drinian explains with a tremor in his voice. "Silent as a ghost, there on the north side."

"And she did no more than beckon with her hand?" Caspian knows full well that she did nothing more, Drinian said as much yesterday, but he needs to hear it again in the very spot it happened.

"Yes, my lord. Nothing more." Drinian turns a mournful gaze toward the fountain, regret and pain twisting his face.

Caspian stays there in the meadow until high noon, hoping the lady will show herself so he can interrogate her at once. It would be bad form to murder a lady in cold blood, after all, but the moment the truth spilled from her lips he could do as he pleased. So much the better if she took to her snake's form.

At once, Caspian is hit with an idea.

"Return to Cair Paravel, Lord Drinian," he calls, springing towards his mount with a frantic gleam in his eye. "I must send a message at once."

* * *

"Take this to the city of Telmara, and make certain you deliver it straight to Rosamar. No other hands must touch this letter, am I understood?"

"Y-yes, Majesty," stammers a squire whom Caspian has tasked with contacting his old friend.

"And do not, on pain of death, open that letter for anything in all the lands." Caspian fixes the boy with his sternest stare. He has not forgotten his promise of secrecy to Rose, not even in times as dark as this.

"I swear it, Your Majesty," says the boy. "I will see this to her as fast as the horse will carry me."

"Then waste no time," Caspian urges, turning from him to pace the room with his hands clasped behind his back. "Your provisions are already packed; all you must do is ride."

The squire scurries off faster than Caspian thought his legs could go. His last, admittedly repetitious, demand to be careful with that letter dies before he can shout it out after his makeshift messenger.

As the squire disappears out of his study, Caspian runs anxious fingers through his hair and prays that Rose will forgive his risk. He has no other way of communicating with her short of riding out to the city, and he cannot do so at the moment. He is busy making all the necessary arrangements to allow him to seek the serpent. Trumpkin is getting old, but he has more than enough pluck to look after Narnia in his absence. Glenstorm and Drinian will lend their hands where needed as well.

Narnia will be in the best hands he can provide.

With the squire gone, his study is suddenly far too quiet. He needs to get out in the open air, needs to spar with Glenstorm needs to…to…to do _something_ besides sit here in this office where his beloved queen would visit him, bring him afternoon tea, harp on him for missing dinner yet again to tend to the paperwork. This place holds so many memories of her.

But if he goes outside, it will be his son who haunts him.

His son, his Rilian, who already showed such promise. He would have been a fair and noble prince, a Knight of Narnia who would have done his father and his country proud.

Caspian slams his fist into the desk, barely noticing the throb that starts soon afterward. Why them? Why his queen, his wife, his love? She, the purest soul in Narnia with the blood of stars in her veins. Why his son? His heir, who was years in coming and rejoiced for so exultantly upon his birth. Why them, why either of them, why now? How in the name of the Lion had he missed the arrival of evil into Narnia?

His hands catch his head as it falls toward the desk. He should have noticed something, there had to have been signs...

Perhaps it will make more sense when Rose sends a letter back. There is a possibility she knows something of this snake, and if she does he intends to get every last syllable out of her.

Caspian shakes his head, trying to clear out the thought before he can finish it. He mustn't think that way; if Rose had known anything she would have told him at once. The only thing he's hoping she can offer is some insight and the benefits of experience and a clearer memory than he possesses. That snake that threatened Tanssi Kuun all those years ago...Caspian knows it is probably not the same one, but he must know for sure.

If it is...how did it get to Narnia?

Perhaps it used the same door that Rose did. Perhaps that is how it left one world and came to haunt this one, stealing away his family and-

He must stop these thoughts, he simply must. They are sure to run away with him, and it won't do to answer Rose's incoming letter with anger and accusations. She had more than enough of that when he first knew her, and he has no intention of adding to her mistrust of her fellow citizens, no matter his own situation and difficulties.

Difficulties indeed...

"Aslan," Caspian whispers into his palms. "Why? Why have you allowed them to be taken from me?"

His heart screams for the Great Lion to answer him, but who is he to demand answers? He is in great pain, he is angry and heartsore and exhausted, but no matter his state the Lion deserves all his utmost respect. It is Caspian's duty to give it to him.

He wants so much to ask why again, to roar it at the heavens and make all the kingdom hear his pain. He can't; he shouldn't. No, not when his people are almost as distraught at he. He has lost his family; they have lost hope of peace after his passing. They have lost their well-loved Crown Prince and the Queen who always stood by them.

Caspian swipes at the lone tear that slips from his eye and stands from his armchair. He's got to get out of this study - it's stifling him, trapping him in a cycle of poisonous thoughts.

He wants to remember that fleeting moment of hope again, when he thought that perhaps Rose could help him figure this out, that perhaps she would have an answer he could not find. But now, that is tainted by his musings about Tanssi Kuun and its snake.

He's on his feet and walking before he's even figured out where he's going.

Weary legs carry him onward through the halls. They stop when he stands before his Professor's old library.

With a heavy heart, Caspian pushes the door open and breathes in the comfort of dusty books and meticulously preserved scrolls. It's been years since the death of his childhood professor, but Caspian can't help but miss his dearest and oldest friend. When he steps inside the library - larger than the Professor's study in the Telmarine castle - time could wind backwards and he wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

"You would have known exactly what to say," Caspian murmurs to the abandoned armchair. It's collecting dust again. He's been negligent about cleaning in here.

Since his professor's passing, Caspian had taken it upon himself to keep the cozy space clean and welcoming, just as the Professor liked it. Well, there are no overflowing scrolls tumbling off the mahogany desk nor stacks of old books rivaling Aslan in height, but then again Cornelius had gotten the cleaning bug a few times a year. Most often, it came when his research hit a standstill and his responsibilities as Lord Chancellor were slow.

Caspian's lost count of how many memories he has of helping move precious volumes and paintings from one end of the room to another, of trying to find just one more inch of space on the bookshelf to house just _one more_ book.

"There is a place for everything, my dear boy!" Doctor Cornelius would always say with a merry chuckle. "We must only find it."

More often than not, that space ended up being the extra inch or two between the top of the bookshelves and the ceiling, and then Cornelius would forget that he'd stashed one specific book up there and Caspian would find him rummaging around trying to find it, missing supper in the process. And of course, all the hard work of organizing would be undone.

A fond smile lightens the heavy lines in Caspian's forehead. His heart tugs with the dull sorrow that he's grown used to, but the gladness is still there and much more potent. Stepping across the Professor's favorite rug that depicts a Narnian hunting scene, Caspian crosses the room and plops into the armchair. This was always his spot to let go of kingly behavior, and he's sure that the Professor would be pleased it is still such.

"I am at a loss, Professor," Caspian begins, addressing the faded chair across from his seat that was not always empty. "Well, I am not at a total loss, but…"

How to continue? What exactly is he feeling? Even Caspian doesn't know.

If the Professor were here, he would fold his hands on his belly and wait for his old pupil to try again.

"I have an idea, something to grasp at you see, but it feels so…hollow." Caspian runs a hand over his face, stopping to press his fingers against his eyelids. "It is my duty to seek and destroy this worm before it harms another. Yet what is the meaning to it? Killing it will not bring back Lilliandil."

It's perhaps the third time he's said her name in all the weeks since she was taken so cruelly from him.

His voice catches. "It will not bring back my son."

He can almost hear the Professor's small sigh, can almost see the sad downturn of the lips hidden under the beard.

"And suppose Rose knows nothing. Suppose this witch and the snake that plagued her world are not the same, that they are of no relation to each other. I will have nothing to go on."

And here, Cornelius would say not to think of that yet. He would say that thinking so negatively would help nothing. Perhaps he would suggest a new project to take his mind off it. Professor Cornelius was forever finding inane little ways of distracting him when he needed it.

One of the best was telling Caspian to be a great help and find the name of a mushroom he'd stumbled on deep in the forest.

"You had best know what sort of mushroom it is you are ingesting in that venison and rice dish you have dedicated yourself to devouring!" the Professor had said with an open dare in his eyes. "Botany never was your strongest subject."

The challenge had been so strange that Caspian had gone along with it for the sheer amusement. And when the strange fungus had turned out to be a chicken mushroom, well, the amusement only grew and the whole endeavor made a superb tale for friends over the dish that used it.

Lilliandil had teased him mercilessly about that mushroom after he came back from harvesting it with the kitchen staff and brought it to the bedroom that night. She'd only laughed when he'd launched into the various properties of the mushroom and asked if this was all the Professor's idea. When he'd confessed that yes, it was, she shook her head and wondered aloud at the things he found to keep Caspian's head screwed on tightly.

"I will wait patiently then," Caspian says at length to the still-empty chair. "Perhaps I will even find a chicken mushroom in my soup tonight."

His heart still heavy, but perhaps not quite so heavy as before, Caspian brushes the dust from the desks and chairs and leaves to find something to occupy himself in the days of waiting until Rose's reply arrives.

And wait he does, and ever so patiently.

Well, patience is the only temperament he shows to the public. Caspian's bedroom mirror sees more of his doubt and sorrow than he would like to admit. But one day, at long last, the semblance of patience pays off.

One particularly blustery autumn afternoon, the squire he sent off comes rushing back in when he's passing through the throne room on his way to afternoon tea. (Trumpkin still insists that he will not be a dwarf who eats all the biscuits on his own and that it is Caspian's solemn duty to at least pretend to sip the tea with him.)

"Your Majesty!" calls the squire, gangly legs propelling him across the room faster than Caspian thought him capable.

"You have a reply?" Caspian says at once, frantically scanning the squire's hands for that slip of paper with his answer. "Well where is it?" he demands, not so politely as he should.

"It's-"

The squire is interrupted by the groaning of the doors as they are shoved open. A familiar figure strides through, almost as quickly as the squire.

"Your Majesty," the woman says, curtsying mid-stride and hurrying the rest of the way to stand before him.

"Rose?"

* * *

 **Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Aaaaand Chapter 2! Time to hear from Rose. Man, it's hitting me how much harder it is to write and then edit and update all within 48 hours of each other...I've done it before but not for any of Rose's stories. The good news is that I'm writing much faster than I'll be updating, so it shouldn't be so hectic and confusing for too much longer. Once I get a good ways ahead, all should be well. Even with the new plot that wildhorses1492 helped inspire.**

 **On that note, wildhorses1492 once again gets thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **(Rose POV)**

It's a normal day at Sima's when the news arrives in the city. Nina leaps to her feet at the sound of hooves clattering past the door outside, carding paddles falling into the fraying basket forgotten.

"News from Cair Paravel! Oh do let's go and see what it is!" she twitters. Why she is always so ravenous for news from the east, I will never know.

"She will only be a minute, I'm sure," I tell Sima. She's gotten a bit more snappy over the years, though it's never malicious.

"Be sure you are," she says sternly, almost fully engrossed in her weaving.

Nina begins to scamper out, but Sima stops her.

"And be sure you catch every word so you can report back." Sima's eyes twinkle with indulgence, and I can't help but grin along.

With a grin and a promise, Nina is off.

Sima and I sit there spinning and weaving peacefully, even as the clamor builds outside. On the rare occasions news travels on horseback, almost everyone in the city decides they simply _must_ see the bringers of the news, otherwise known at the subject of gossip for the next month or so. Sima always grumbles that she is far too old for such nonsense, and I dislike crowds, so we both keep each other company while the rest of the town goes wild.

"What do you suppose it is this time?" I ask above the clack-clack of the loom and the steady whirr of the spinning wheel.

"How should I know?" Sima retorts. "We'll find out soon enough."

I only nod and smile. Sima's grumpiness never fails to amuse me, and I think she knows it too.

We're content with our work throughout the spectacle, and soon enough Nina indeed comes back. I notice then that the city has gone uncommonly quiet.

"What is it, Nina?" I ask at once, dread pooling in my stomach. She's never this quiet after retrieving news for us.

When Nina looks up to meet my eyes, her own are swimming with tears.

"The Queen is dead," she whispers.

Oh no.

"The Queen…" I have to clear my throat before I can continue. "The Queen of Narnia? Lilliandil?"

Nina nods silently.

"Are you sure?" I press, though my voice is hoarse and I know that it must be her or why would Nina be crying?

Nina looks at me aghast, and suddenly I can't form a single syllable.

How, when…I want to ask these things, but I'm frozen.

"It was only days ago," Nina explains. "They say it was a great green worm that bit her. I…I think she was picnicking."

Of course, she loved picnicking, but why now? The weather is getting cold and-

She must have wanted one last escapade before the coming of winter. But wasn't anyone there, wouldn't…someone had to have seen a snake slithering through the grass.

"I think the day's work must wait until tomorrow." Sima's voice cuts through my reeling thoughts.

Nina's wool remains in its wicker basket, abandoned and mostly still matted together. Sima's loom ceases its clacking and she stands with a hand on her back.

"You're getting a bit old for the loom, you know," I find myself whispering.

"Come, Rose, I want you to build me a fire."

Nina rushes to Sima's side and supports her back. I should help, yes. What did Sima want again?

"A fire, dear," she reminds me as she shuffles by, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder as she passes.

"Yes, of course," I murmur, rushing ahead to get the doors.

Nina and I see Sima inside her small but cozy home behind the shop. The door creaks a little as I push it open, and the handle worn smooth from use wiggles against my hand. This time, I don't joke that she should get that handle fixed. I always do, but…

A fire, that's what she needed.

Nina helps Sima to a rickety old rocking chair beside the hearth. Once I make sure Sima is settled, I fetch the kindling from out back and use the flint she keeps on the mantle to start her fire. I sit to the side and warm my hands as Sima starts her rocking. The heat against my palms chases away some of the numb shock.

"Would you like me to make lunch?" Nina asks quietly.

"No, no need," Sima murmurs. She plays with the blanket Lilia crocheted for her last year and stares at her hands. "We will begin work as usual tomorrow morning unless it is the day of mourning."

Nina turns to go, her footsteps slower and heavier than usual.

"Thank you, child," Sima says, looking up from the blanket to smile at her.

Once Nina closes the door behind her, I turn to Sima and ask if she needs anything else.

"No thank you, Rose, I am well," she says.

I don't know what to say, but staring into the growing flames helps keep my thoughts at bay. The heat starts to make my fingers uncomfortably warm.

"You may rest tomorrow."

"I'm alright," I immediately cut in. "I'm just…surprised. That's all."

The lie feels thick on my tongue.

"You and the Queen were very close." Sima says this carefully. It's so strange to hear such gentleness…Sima has always been kind, but she's never been much for emotional support. She's gruff and fair and doesn't ask questions, only states expectations.

"I'm alright," I whisper again. I know saying it again won't make it more true, but I can't help it. I still don't like others to know of my troubles.

"Nina will make you dinner?" I ask. I should go home - Darin will be worried and I could use a shoulder to lean on right now.

"Go home," is all Sima says. The flap of her hand has none of the usual snap and twinkle of understanding.

"I'll be back in the morning." Leaving the warmth of the fireplace makes keeping myself quiet and composed more difficult.

The walk home feels far too long, far too lonely.

Oh Lion...Caspian, Rilian. They must be destroyed.

I shake my head as I continue down the street, the aging cobblestones rough through my shoes. I wouldn't know what to say, but my heart squeezes painfully at how much worse this is for them.

When I finally get home, to the house Darin and I share halfway between Sima's shop and his blacksmith forge, he's waiting for me.

I'm not ashamed to practically fall into his arms. He pulls me in close and strokes my hair. It almost feels like he's telling me I can cry if I need to, but I'm not about to do that here in the street, no matter if we're halfway inside the door. I pull free long enough to slip inside and tug him with me.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs, cupping my cheek with one hand and scanning my face tenderly.

"Rilian and Caspian are much worse," I whisper.

I let my husband hold me for enough moments that I can catch my breath and keep my feelings in check.

"Did you hear it? In the square?"

Darin nods. "I looked for you, but when I saw Nina I knew you wouldn't be there. Rose-"

"I'm cold," I interrupt. I've no wish to discuss this, not yet.

"I'll light a fire." Darin kisses my forehead before he goes to pile the wood. He understands, and I know that now he won't ask anything unless I bring it up first. He's learned when to leave it lie over the years.

In minutes, Darin leads me over to a roaring blaze and wraps a blanket – a gift from Lilia when she visited for the holidays last year – around my shoulders.

No sooner have I settled down than the door flies open and in rushes our clacking hen of a neighbor. The newlywed woman means well, but she has a bigger appetite for gossip than a horse has for sugar cubes.

At once, Darin rushes from my side to deflect her incoming chatter.

"Have you heard about our beloved Queen?" Bronwen bursts out. "Why, it's the talk of the city! Where do you suppose that awful snake could have gone to?"

"As you just said, the whole of the city knows," Darin gentle cuts in. "We are all devastated."

"But the snake!" Bronwen practically explodes. "What if it's traversing all of Narnia, hunting for its next meal?" She wrings her hands together with eyes bugged out for effect. I do my best not to snap that the snake is the least of the problem and how _dare_ she start gossiping about Lilliandil's death and doesn't she know better and-

"Bronwen, the Queen is gone. We should focus on mourning." Darin is firm, but so much kinder than I could have been.

It's a miracle Bronwen hasn't noticed me sitting here in front of the fire. I thank the Lion that the hearth is off to the side.

To Bronwen's credit, she does seem contrite. "Yes, yes of course," she hurries to say.

An awkward silence descends, during which I pray she won't look off to her left where I sit, still as a stone.

"I should be off," she finally says. "Good day." And with that, my prayers are answered and I let out a whooshing breath of relief once the door closes behind her.

"Thanks," I say to Darin as he returns to my side. "I didn't have the patience."

"She doesn't mean to be so irritating," he answers with a sympathetic shrug.

"Comes naturally, I suppose." I should be at least a little ashamed of my grumbling, but I'm not in the mood to be perfectly polite.

"I'll take care of dinner tonight," Darin says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and rubbing my upper arm. I let my head fall to rest against him.

"Thank you."

* * *

The entire city does indeed have a day of mourning. Sima doesn't ask for us to return to work for another day after that, and I wonder if she's doing it for my sake. On some level, I hope not - sitting around the house with little to do except wallow doesn't do much good.

Days pass, weeks pass, and the fog over the city and over me starts to lessen. Darin notices the change before I do, and that helps too. I often wonder if I should send a letter, something, to Caspian, but I wouldn't know what to say. No words will take away his sorrow.

But just over a month after the news of Lilli came, worse news rides into the city on the lips of a messenger.

"The Crown Prince Rilian has disappeared!" comes the news echoing across the square.

Caspian, Caspian, what's happening? Your son…

Tears pool in my eyes and I have to turn away before the rest of the story sounds from the crier's lips. Losing Lilliandil would have been awful enough for Caspian, but losing Rilian too?

I drown myself in work that day, and the next, and the next as well. Sima asks if I need time, but I practically beg her to let me keep working. Bless her, she doesn't ask for an explanation - she only hands me the key and tells me to slip it under her door when I'm done for the night.

Those days, I card and spin through the night, and when Sima opens the shop up again she finds me spinning away early too. I've never produced so much thread in my life, but it's what I need. Sima's incredulous and Nina tells me with a smile not to steal her work. The surprised praise is good for me, just like the extra work.

Of course, Darin has a few things to say about my hours. The first night, when I stayed well past midnight, I came home to find him still awake. He was waiting for me. After asking me rather emphatically where in the name of all things I'd been, he realizes what I was doing and just hugs me instead.

I reassure him that I'm fine, but he still reheats the leftover soup and makes sure I ate every bite in the bowl.

The worst night is the night I don't come home at all. Sima comes at first light to find me still plugging away at the wool and gives me one of the worst scoldings of my life.

"You cannot work yourself to death, Rosamar," she finishes with her hands firmly on her hips. "Work when you must, but you know as well as I you cannot continue like this!"

I don't apologize, but I say it wouldn't happen again. Apparently, that isn't quite enough for Sima - she sends Nina to fetch Darin the next night when it's hours past sunset and she spies my candle through the window.

Darin has a few – well, more than a few – words for me too. Once Nina goes home, I toss my own words back at him, until it's a horrid fight. I apologize for that, and so does he. And on nights when I don't want to go home just yet, Darin sits with me by the spinning wheel until my eyelids get heavy. It's only then he insists on taking me home and putting me to bed himself. With his arms wrapped around me as he sleeps, I can't move much at all without waking him and so sleep soon comes.

And now, it's been only half a week since the news of Rilian and a squire with the legs of a gangly colt is bursting into the shop with a letter in hand and sweat running in rivers down his face.

"It's from King Caspian, my lady," he gasps, kneading his side with his free hand. "I've not opened it, I swear! I promised."

The letter, crinkled from its long travel, is practically shoved into my hands. Nina rushes over to the squire telling him to "Please sit down, and I'll fetch you some water," and insisting that he take her stool as his seat.

I open the note with shaking hands, wondering what on earth Caspian has to say. I was sure he'd be buried in grief and trying to keep Narnia together (as well he should be!), not concerned with talking to me.

 _Rose,_

 _By now you must have heard of the terrible calamity that has befallen Narnia and myself. Rilian is now gone, disappeared after a month of seeking the worm that killed his mother. The Lord Drinian has told me that days before Rilian was lost to us, he was meeting a beautiful lady enrobed in green at the very same fountain where Lilli was bitten. I think the lady and the snake to be the same._

 _What I must know is this: I must know if you think it possible that this snake is the same creature that plagued Tanssi Kuun those long years ago. I have not seen it in so long, but in my heart I fear they may be one in the same. I beg you to write everything you remember of that evil serpent and send it back with the squire I have sent with all haste. I intend to seek out this foul beast and eradicate it from this earth, and any help your words will give is sorely needed._

 _Caspian_

Oh God. What if he's right?

I stare at down at the letter in pure shock. The snake, from so long ago…it could be.

"Sima, would you excuse me?" I whisper, eyes still fixed on the page. "There is something I must attend to."

"You have worked more than your share these past days. Go."

Sima doesn't have to tell me twice. I call the directions to my house over my shoulder to the squire, who is now gulping down water as fast as Nina will bring it to him. Perhaps he acknowledges my frantic words, but I've no time to check. No, I must hurry home and remember every detail I can of that battle for my world.

I race through the streets, for once unconcerned with how many people take notice of me. All I know is that they scurry out of my path and I mumble my thanks as I speed by. By the time I reach my home, I'm clutching my side and tumbling into the living room where I read the letter over once more.

The snake…now what exactly happened after the battle? I remember fighting the snake, and I remember Caspian joining in to help, but I don't remember us killing it. No, that's right, it left! It just slithered off after Caspian dealt a particularly nasty swipe at an open wound, and neither the faeries nor I ever saw it again.

It could still be alive.

Perhaps it hid away in the mountains, or perhaps it slithered out the same way it came. Or perhaps...perhaps, it found the door to Narnia.

My blood freezes in my veins. I could have led it here. Unwittingly, but that doesn't mitigate the mistake.

Staring into the ashen remains of last night's fire, I go over all I know. I recall the color of the scales as much as possible, the shape, how large it was, what its eyes looked like, what it said to me – everything.

It told me every land needed a queen, but Narnia had one. Tanssi Kuun had no ruler, and still doesn't. Perhaps it isn't the same, perhaps it's only of a similar breed, or perhaps it's another one entirely. Caspian didn't mention if this snake could talk.

My head spins. Unless I can see this thing in person, there's no way to know, not for certain. I can only guess. If I'm to tell the difference, at the very least I have to go to the meadow, see if it left any traces behind.

An idea sparks.

A glance out the window shows me there are enough hours left before Darin returns that I can rush to Tanssi Kuun to see if it holds any answers. The faeries have taught me many things – including sensing a presence that is no longer there. All things with magic leave traces, and if Caspian thinks the snake and Rilian's green beauty are the same, it is absolutely a magical creature we're dealing with.

On my way out the door, I throw on a cloak and make my way out of the city. In the daylight I can't simply slip by under people's noses, so I do my best to just blend in. I almost always go to Tanssi Kuun at night even now, but I don't think this can wait. I have to know if it's the same snake, if I accidentally threw open its path into Narnia. Was that what it really wanted all along?

Now beyond the purview of the city, I hurry through the woods through the familiar trees. The leaves are a rainbow of warm colors, and the ground is littered with brown leaves that crunch under my feet with each step. If my errand weren't so pressing, I would stop to admire it – the sun slanting through the branches, the reds and oranges and rusty yellows, the crisp tang in the air that burns a bit if I inhale too deeply. It's another cold autumn day, my favorite kind of weather.

There's no time for appreciating the scenery. I break into a run once I'm sure the trees completely hide me from the main road to the city. When my tree is in sight, I breathlessly call "kuu" and press my pendant to the key,

The cold lessens considerably once I step into Tanssi Kuun. The cold has already come, and spring is on its way. The air is still nippy, but I can breathe as deeply as I wish.

No one is around the door right now, and expectedly so. The faeries are used to my nightly visits, not daytime callings. I continue my dash through the grasses that scrape my skin if I'm careless toward the forest. When they're not waiting for me to get here, the faeries spend most of their time in the forest among the evergreens.

This is exactly where I find them. They clamor from their circle (they were likely trading stories again) to say hello, but the look on my face and the dread in my heart stops them cold.

"Rose, what ever is the matter?" Bashar rushes to ask. "We haven't seen you in days, and your heart is dark with sorrow."

I don't waste a second. "You know Lilliandil was killed by a snake. Now Rilian too is gone, and Caspian thinks the snake is the woman who lured Rilian away and the same one that threatened us so long ago. I need to find out if that's true."

"Magic," whispers Lari. She's been my teacher in the faerie ways for almost a decade now.

I nod. "You taught me it always leaves a trace. I need you to help me find a trace and follow it. Teach me, please," I beg.

Teach me they do. For hours, I work to recognize even the smallest magical signature. First I learn to sense a signature, then to find weaker ones. We do the best we can with the limited time. At some point, we all lose all sense of time, the half dozen of us working on this. When I next check the sky, the moon is long set and it looks close to midnight.

Darin must be worried.

"Thank you," I quickly say to my teachers. "I cannot even begin to thank you properly, but I must go now. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."

"You will not be back for some time?" Bashar asks, her lights dimming ever so slightly as she stares at me.

"If I let that creature into Narnia, I have to try and make it right," I whisper. I know they feel the flood of misery consume me, but I'm too tired from the hours of magic-tracing to even begin to school it. "Darin will come often."

Lari links one of her light ribbons with Bashar's and sends reassurance.

"Be careful, Rose," Lari says. "I think we all know what you mean to do."

I swallow. I have no intention of getting myself into danger, but I know they're right - it may find me anyway. Still, I promise to stay safe as much as I can, because if something happened to me who would look after them? Darin could, we even agreed on that should something awful happen, but I don't want to put him in that position.

I say my goodbyes and return home to a rather peeved husband.

"Rose," he says with a long sigh as I slip inside. "I was worried." He holds up a folded piece of paper sticking out of a roughly sealed envelope – the letter.

"Tanssi Kuun had a way of finding an answer," I whisper as I shrug off my cloak and join him at the kitchen table. "I had to."

"I'm glad you went there," Darin says quickly. "I was hoping you would soon. I thought it would help."

"It did." I shift in my seat, the wooden chair suddenly too firm against my backside. How do I tell him that I intend to leave for Cair Paravel and that he has to stay here and look after the faeries?

Darin lets the letter flutter down to the table and folds his arms. "You're going to Cair Paravel, aren't you?"

"If I let that snake in, Darin…" I swallow the guilt threatening to steal my voice. "I have to help if I can."

"There could have been another door-"

I still Darin's fidgeting hands with my own and meet his eyes at last. "Caspian has lost almost everything; what else _can_ I do?"

Darin pulls one hand free and runs it through his hair. He tends to do that when he knows he's lost an argument and he's trying to keep his calm.

"Rose…"

He's going to try to stop me, I'm sure. I inadvertently stiffen as I wait for the rest of his words.

"Be careful."

My gaze snaps back to meet his eyes, eyes that are swimming with worry. He sighs again. He's as resigned as he's going to be, and that's all I can ask for.

"Thank you," I breathe, my own eyes welling up.

"Would I get any peace if I tried to stop you?" he asks with a smile that's just a little too heavy.

"No," I answer honestly, trying to make my grin more playful than apologetic. I can't say if it works.

Darin promises to look after the faeries in my absence, and I tell Sima as much of the truth as I can. Nina promises to look after the wheel while I'm away, and it doesn't make me bristle and tease that she's trying to steal my job like usual.

Of course, when I tell the squire (who is now well-rested, no longer beet-red and soaked in his own sweat) of my plan he's both thankful and unsure. But in the end, we set out the next morning at first light.

A piece of me begs for Caspian's forgiveness the entire ride.

* * *

 **Review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the slight lateness of this chapter, guys. Term papers are not fun business, but the good news is that I'm done with big assignments for the next three weeks or so. Maybe some day I'll get more than five hours of sleep...a girl can dream right? *insert crazed giggle here***

 **And as always, thank you so much to wildhorses1492 for the review! I'll admit that as excited as I am for this story, hearing from you keeps me going when the Muse is refusing to cooperate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **(Caspian POV)**

"I couldn't tell just from a letter," she says, eyes shining with a fire he'd come to know well. "But I have a way to be sure."

Caspian is utterly speechless.

She came from days away to help, in spite of her own responsibilities. She could have sent a letter. That is what he was expecting, the most he ever asked, and yet here she stands before him with the promise of answers in her eyes.

"Caspian?" Rose gently touches his arm, as if to bring him back to reality.

"Thank you, Rose," he whispers, breathless and taken aback.

"I need to go to the meadow," she says quietly, like she's afraid of spooking him. "It's the only way I know to figure this out."

The mere mention of _that_ meadow makes Caspian's heart clench painfully in his chest. Rose sees this, he knows she does. His pain is not so obvious in his face – he's spent long hours at night practicing to make sure – but he is well aware that his heart cannot hide it the same way.

"If you tell me how to get there, I can go alone."

The offer is gentle and welcome, but Caspian knows he can't simply skirt away from this. He remains determined to find that worm and finish it. He can't do that if he sits back and lets Rose do all the work.

So Caspian shakes his head though he does nothing to stifle his gratitude.

"I can't ask you to go out there alone. I will accompany you."

Oh, the words sound so much more noble than he feels! After so much impatience, doubt, fear, grief - the sudden appearance of his old friend and all that she's offering is almost too much.

In his heart, Caspian thanks Aslan over and over again for this gift.

"Very well. We should go at first light," says Rose.

First light? Caspian would much prefer to go now and get it over with!

He's moments away from saying as much, but at the last second before his mouth opens Caspian remembers just what Rose has done. She's ridden long and hard to be here, and she must be unspeakably exhausted.

"Yes, of course," Caspian hurries to assure her before she picks up on the impatience that has returned to him. "Please, allow me to show you to your rooms."

Rose surprises him by shaking her head. "I think I've stayed here enough to know where you'll have me. Go on to tea, Caspian. We can talk more over dinner." And with that, she strides away with little sign of how worn she must be.

The squire, on the other hand, looks much worse for the wear. The poor boy has been standing here in respectful silence while he struggled to catch his breath.

"Go and rest," Caspian tells the boy. "You've more than earned it."

"Thank you, Sire," says the squire, rushing off with plain relief written across his young features.

Sometimes Rilian had that same look when he was younger. It would often come after Caspian took a few hours out of his schedule to train him. When Rilian was quite young, the relief was quick and full of mischief; Caspian knew that his son scurried right to the kitchens to filch a cookie from under the cooks' noses, but he never said anything. Rilian's brand of mischief was merry and hardly malicious. Why should he not let the boy have his fun?

Caspian shakes the fond memory away, all too aware of the tightness in his chest and the wetness in his eyes. His son…

Aimlessly, Caspian continues on his way to Trumpkin's, no longer very much in the mood for tea. But the aging dwarf would have several words with him if he failed to appear, and Caspian is hardly in the mood for a lecture about tea and biscuits and manners.

He will go to tea - perhaps it will take his mind off of things.

* * *

When dinnertime comes around, Caspian the Tenth is leaning over the desk in his room with his head in his hands and bloodshot eyes. He had not meant to cry, but the memories of Rilian wouldn't go away during tea and he couldn't bear it. He had to let it all out here in the privacy of his room.

It used to be Lilliandil's room too.

"My Queen," he whispers, holding onto a foolish, impossible hope that she will materialize and say he has only dreamed this past month.

Then comes a knock on the door, and it's all Caspian can do to not to holler at the interrupting party to do _go away_ and come back tomorrow because he has no care at all for dinner this night.

It's Rose.

When he doesn't answer – he's attempting to clean the marks of his sorrow from his cheeks – she cracks the door and calls his name.

"Caspian?" she says, the door muffling her words in spite of the crack. "It's dinnertime."

"Just a moment," Caspian rushes to reply. "I'm indisposed." And indisposed he is, but not in the way she is thinking.

"You don't have to come down, but I thought you'd at least want to know." Rose pauses and starts to close the door. "I'll have something sent up for you."

All in a hurry, Caspian _does_ want to go to dinner, if only to distract him from his grief for a little while. He knows he probably should get out of this room.

He finishes cleaning up and practically runs to the door that Rose has just closed, grabbing the handle and pulling it back open. "It's alright," he blurts as Rose turns with a startled look. He strides forward in spite of himself. What will the castle say if the king does not come to dinner?

Rose frowns at once. His eyes must still be ringed with red, and she is almost too good at seeing through his fronts by now.

"Caspian…perhaps you should rest. You look…well…"

"Awful?" he finishes for her with a wry smile.

She nods and lays a worried hand on his shoulder. "I won't ask if you're alright, but will you be?"

Caspian looks down at his boots. He is so used to being strong, so used to putting on his bravest front for his people that the question takes him off guard. In a small way, he's ashamed.

He can't say.

"I do not know." He resigns himself to it as soon as he says it, and his heart sinks a little more.

Caspian isn't sure what Rose will say to that, but she still manages to surprise him. She doesn't say anything. All she does is pull him forward by his shoulder and smile gently.

"Come on. We're already late."

* * *

In the morning they ride out to the meadow, and on the way Caspian apologizes for his mood last night. Well, he tries to but Rose hushes him before he gets out the second word.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Rose interrupts firmly.

Caspian thanks her and tries to remember that he has seen her fall apart before, that it's alright she's now seeing him do the same.

She is the only person left he can still be completely honest with. She's the one friend he doesn't have to ever feel ashamed around. It's good to see her in a time such as this.

Once they arrive at the meadow, the fountain rushing along with the occasional fallen leaf marring the water and the grass swaying in the crisp breeze, Caspian manages to put the previous night behind him in favor of finally getting an answer. Perhaps, he will have found a place to start.

Yet a small and tiny part of him wishes to turn about and never come back to this place. Not only for the evil that paid it two visits, but for what an affirmative answer will provide. If it is indeed the same snake, Caspian knows he will not be the only one asking how it got here.

"Where exactly was Lilli, when she was bitten?" Rose struggles with the words, voice catching on the last bit. Caspian remembers with a start that Rose lost a dear friend in Lilliandil, something he had, up to this point, almost completely forgotten.

"That, I don't know," Caspian murmurs. "Only that the green-clad lady stood by that accursed fountain, and there she beckoned to my son."

Rose sets her jaw and strides toward the rushing water without a backward glance. Caspian almost stays behind, but what good would that do? He has to know, and there is little use in asking Rose to simply walk back and tell him.

His stomach churns as they approach even as a complicated hope stirs in his chest. He isn't sure what to hope for, but in his heart Caspian wants little more than to simply have some sort of lead, no matter the consequences. Those could come later, the waves of continued grief and the inconsolable demands for _why_ Aslan allowed this. Now, however, is not the time, nor does Caspian have the luxury of indulging the grim future even for a moment.

Caspian catches up to Rose's fierce pace right as they arrive at the fountain. They shift to its northern side. The water gurgles alongside them, babbling against the piled stones like nothing at all is the matter and there never was anything the matter. The fountain seems to laugh at their solemnity, their sorrow. Caspian almost swears he can feel the water beckoning and telling him to stop being foolish, that there are no answers here. What he should do is relax, sleep, and think of wiser things than chasing loose ends.

Rose freezes at once, skin flushing pale and eyes wide in her face. She knows, Caspian knows instantly that she knows. He schools himself from interrogating her only just barely. She'll come to tell him in a few moments, he must only be patient…Caspian has been patient for _so very long_.

"Rose, what is it?" he blurts, barely caring that her eyes are telling him she needed another minute to gather herself.

She doesn't answer right away - perhaps she can't. Caspian wants to apologize, yet he's practically quaking with dread and hope.

"You…" Rose's voice catches and a distant look comes to her eyes. "You were right." She looks away. "It's the same."

Caspian is so relieved and so sorry and so…so…angry.

Rose sees it in his heart, he knows she must. Why else would she step away and turn her back to him? Why else would she crouch and touch the ground with her fingers, all the while bowing her head in what he assumes to be sorrow?

"You are certain?" Caspian _must_ be sure before he jumps to conclusions. Lilli would be so upset if he destroyed a dear friendship without being positively, absolutely, irrevocably certain...

"Do I look doubtful to you?" she snaps, harsh and defensive. Is that guilt he hears echoing in her voice?

Caspian knows full well he shouldn't let the words slip out. Yet, they manage to do just exactly that. "How did it get here?"

Rose doesn't answer. She only stoops there beside the rushing water unmoving, hand pressed to the earth as if it holds all the answers. As if she can will away the truth simply by wishing it.

This time, Caspian knows not to push her. If he knows her at all, they're thinking the same thing. Quite possibly, that snake entered Narnia from Rose's door.

"You never should have helped me." Rose sounds almost accusatory, as if it was he who insisted on helping her.

She's right; he was, wasn't he? She tried to tell him…

At once, Caspian remembers his words to Drinian. "Shall I lose my friend also?" he'd cried upon casting aside the axe. He forgave his sea-faring friend for his mistakes. Can he not forgive Rose for hers, especially as they can't be sure if it truly was her door or not?

"Rose," Caspian whispers, his anger draining in an instant. "We can't know anything for sure."

She stands with fire in her eyes. "First you think to blame me, and now you school me on uncertainty?"

Caspian doesn't know what to say. He's trying to give her door the benefit of the doubt, trying so hard and she's not making it easy at all. She blames herself, Caspian realizes, more than he ever could. And she will continue to do so no matter what he says.

"Come, let us return to the Cair. Perhaps things will be clearer at a distance."

Rose is shaking her head before Caspian finishes.

"Go if you must, but I intend to stay here. I may be able to figure out where she was headed." With her eyes, Rose openly dares him to defy her.

Lion help him, Caspian ignores the warning in her eyes anyway.

"Rose, there is nothing to be gained here presently. Please, let us go to breakfast and return later."

"As I've said," Rose returns coldly, "go if you wish. I'm staying."

There's nothing he can do to convince her. With a heavy heart, Caspian nods and turns to go. Before he takes two steps, Rose's voice stops him in his tracks.

"I'm so sorry."

From those words alone, Caspian hears her breaking.

"You cannot blame yourself," he says, turning back around on his heels to stare her down. "All that matters to me is finding that worm and disposing of it. Nothing more."

He does not like the words, but firmness is the only thing that will keep Rose focused. It's much better to have her focus than spiral in her own guilt. But no, that won't be enough. Perhaps he should reassure her too.

"As I swore to Lord Drinian I would not lose his friendship, so too do I refuse to lose yours. Promise me this, Rose," Caspian practically pleads as he kneels beside her. "Promise you will not hold yourself accountable for something you could never have foreseen."

Silence reigns between them, interrupted only by that infernal fountain with the laughing water. When Rose finally speaks, she still won't look at him.

"I'm not leaving until I know where she's headed."

Caspian could argue. But why would he? Any progress is good progress if it brings him closer to avenging his wife and son, and if Rose is stubborn enough to provide that, he will not deny the satisfaction to either of them.

Rose spends the better part of an hour tiptoeing across the spongy ground, seemingly oblivious to the growing wind that brings more than just a chill to the air. Autumn is in its last days, and soon it will be winter. Winter means a much more difficult quest. Caspian knows Trumpkin will harangue him to postpone the venture until the first thaw, but he can't wait that long. Not when he must finish the work his son began.

Sometimes, Rose brightens and a glimmer of gratification shines in her eye. These moments come as she's inching along ever so slowly. Apparently she can still walk to trace the magic, but it tends to stick better into the solid ground and so she can tell where the witch has walked only by, quite literally, following in her footsteps.

Caspian tags along mostly for his own comfort, as he knows his presence will be of little use to his old friend. She can do this work without his presence at all - perhaps it is only out of courtesy and remorse that she allows him to stay and, for all purposes, supervise her.

The sun is crawling toward the sky's zenith when Rose shoots bolt upright from bending over the ground and fixes him in place with a wide-eyed, frantic stare pregnant with hope.

"What is it?" he asks automatically, heart leaping in his chest at the look in her eye. Rose practically quivers with a crazed sort of optimism before him.

"It was not only one who came through here." Rose sprints the few steps between them and takes his shoulders in a death grip. "Two passed this way."

How is that good? Two witches to deal with? Or perhaps Rose means that the snake and the lady are not one in the same being, that they are in fact separate. But why would she be bursting at the seams with news such as that?

Unless….

No. That was impossible. Caspian has accepted his loss in the week since his son's disappearance. Rilian is not coming back because he has joined his mother in Aslan's Country.

"Caspian," Rose whispers, "Her magic is leaving two trails, one potent and one small and yet still strong."

Caspian stares at her much, he supposes, like a man fully out of his wits.

"Did you find Rilian's body?"

Caspian freezes.

No. They hadn't. And at once the hope that sprouted in Rose's eyes takes savage hold of the King of Narnia's heart and burrows deep. He may yet find one piece of his family that he loved so dearly. Rilian could be under a spell.

Rilian is alive.

* * *

 **I feel slightly guilty for what I'm planning for some of these characters, but, well...writers will be writers. ;)**

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	5. Chapter 4

**Man, editing and writing at the same time continues to prove itself quite the task...Moonrose was so much easier! Well, here's hoping it's worth it.**

 **Much thanks to wildhorses1492 for her continued enthusiasm and marvelous reviews!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **(Rose POV)**

Caspian stares at me as though I've three heads at first, but I hold firm. The green lady left behind Lilli's body; why would she not do the same for Rilian? Why take the body with her? With the second magical signature, the most logical answer is that there is, in fact, no body.

Frozen in place, Caspian regards me and seems to slowly work through what I'm implying.

"My son is alive?"

Tears of hope well in my eyes as I reply. "I think so."

I release Caspian's shoulders from my frantic grip, having delivered my news. If Rilian is alive, Caspian may yet find him with the witch. It appears as though they left together. The one complication is her magic; it appears that she's cast some sort of enchantment over Rilian.

"We must go at once!" Caspian shouts, jolting me from the diffusing excitement.

"Caspian, wait-"

My friend ignores my words and bounds to where I was standing not minutes ago. "If you can follow her trail, we can find my son! We've not a moment to lose, Rose, come on!"

"Wait-"

"I suppose we must get provisions, but perhaps we can find an owl to-"

"CASPIAN!" At last, I strain my voice loud enough to break through Caspian's frantic excitement. "It's not so simple."

His visage falls a bit, but Caspian remains stubborn and holds on to the hope I've given him. "How so?" he asks in a measured tone.

"There are two magical signatures here," I begin. I'm repulsed by the idea of crushing Caspian's hope, but he has to know the truth.

"On with it, Rose," he urges.

"I think she's enchanted Rilian," I finally admit, as gently as I am able. "I don't know how to break that kind of magic."

Caspian seems completely unfazed, to my utter shock.

"Aslan will help us," he insists. His hand seizes my arm and tries to tug me along. "Now show me where she is headed."

"Caspian-"

"I refuse to wait!" Caspian suddenly shouts, inches from my face. "As your king, I command you to tell me where she is going with my son!"

I don't know what to say. In all the years I've known Caspian, I've never seen him act like this. Perhaps the desperation is too much; perhaps the grief has finally driven him mad.

"Well?" Caspian growls, his grip on my arm tightening to the point of bruising.

Trying to wriggle free, I attempt to get more sensible thoughts in his head. "We should at least get provisions before setting out. And you haven't finished getting all in order for you to depart-"

"I don't _care_! I am going to find my son. Now will you help me or not?" Caspian's eyes glint dangerously, bewildering me with the intensity of the hidden threat. He's never…

"Let. Me. Go."

If I can't talk reason into him, I will at the very least keep him from further bruising my arm. To that end, I make sure to pronounce each word with firm inarguability. I'm not going anywhere with this new, unsettling Caspian until he calms down and returns to his wits.

When Caspian doesn't release me, I try again.

"I am not a rag doll, " I grit out with a fire of my own. "You will release me, Your Majesty, or you will live to regret it."

Caspian shakes his head and glances around with wide eyes, as if waking up from a dream. His gaze flits down to my arm, still encased in his right hand. At once, his fingers loosen and I yank my arm from his grasp.

"I'm sorry," he begins. "I-"

"If you treat me that way again, I will return home and have no part in any of this, nor will I wish to speak to you again until you have regained a sound mind. Do I make myself clear?"

Perhaps my words are a bit harsh, but with a display such as that I don't know if anything else will work. Caspian is king - he cannot afford to lose himself to any extreme emotion, most especially if he is going after a witch.

Caspian looks down at his boots as I back away out of his arm's reach and tries to apologize again.

"I don't know what came over me," he says. "Truly, Rose, I am sorry."

His eyes have lost their wild, demented light, and I think that he is returned to himself. But just in case, I keep my distance though I accept the peace offering.

"You're forgiven," I answer with a sigh. "But you can't allow those sorts of thoughts to rule you, not when you intend to pursue this snake to save your kingdom."

Relief floods me at the subdued bobbing of my friend's head. Finally, some reason.

"It will not happen again."

When I meet Caspian's gaze, I'm overwhelmed by the shame flooding his brown eyes. It speaks of something I don't know of. I want to walk closer to reassure him, but I let my caution win this time. Caution has never let me down - why question it now?

"Let's return to the castle," I murmur. "You can make the final preparations to leave."

With Caspian's agreement, I lead the way back to the horses and we head back to the castle. It's a silent, uncomfortable ride. I can't think of decent conversation, and Caspian is refusing to look at me – if I know him at all, it's guilt.

I am acutely aware my severe words may have been too much, yet I'm not overly inclined to apologize. Caspian will be fine. Soon enough he'll be so embroiled in the quest to rescue Rilian that he'll barely remember the whole thing.

Upon our return to Cair Paravel, we find a surprise that distracts Caspian from his remorse even quicker. Two raggedy children, one boy and one girl, in the strangest clothes I've ever seen stand in the throne room with a white owl the size of a dwarf. The children look miserable, windblown and damp through and through.

"Eustace?" Caspian asks, joy and disbelief blooming on the formerly morose face. He springs from my side and meets the blond boy in a death-grip of a hug.

"By Jove," exclaims the boy over Caspian's shoulder. "Caspian, how old you've gotten!"

Caspian lets out a merry laugh, the first I've heard since all these awful things happened. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!" hoots the owl. "They have been sent by Aslan himself. Oh what a to-do!"

"That's right," pipes up the girl with two braids and a rather drab-colored outfit. "We're to seek the lost prince with you."

At the mention of Aslan, Caspian shoots me a certain 'I-told-you' look and graciously accepts the offer of assistance.

"I welcome your aid, my lady. And what might your name be?"

The girl draws herself to her full height and replies with a façade of pride. "My name's Jill," she answers with her chin high in the air.

"Oh don't be such a sod, Pole," the blond boy – Eustace, I suppose – cuts in with a roll of his eyes. "You're not so important as all that."

"I'll remind you that Aslan told _me_ the four signs, and not you!" Jill fires back with eyes that flash. By looking into her heart, I can see her unease as clear as day. But to her credit, she hides it passably well – though in the process I'm afraid she comes off as a bit of a prick.

"I was hurling over the cliff _you_ pushed me off of!" shouts Eustace. "If you hadn't gone and done that, Aslan would have given us both the signs and blown us both at the same time."

"Scrub, you know very well you were being a right beast, bringing me to the edge like that!"

"I didn't, Pole, you were the one standing at the edge and looking queasy. I told you to step back, but you had to go and lose your head and toss me over, didn't you?"

Squabbles such as this are precisely why I insisted to Darin that we do our utmost to avoid having children. I don't have near the patience necessary to deal with this sort of nonsense day in and day out. Looking at Caspian, he's more bewildered and less annoyed. If anything, he's amused at the verbal barbs flying between the mouths of the children. Well, that's all well and fine for him to be patient, but I've had just about enough. No, I have absolutely had enough.

"That's enough!" I bellow. I highly doubt Aslan sent them to be nuisances. "No more squabbling. Just go and get cleaned up before I send you right back to the Lion himself for a new attitude!"

It occurs to me as they're staring that I've not introduced myself. And what is that tiny noise?

I glance to the side, and there is Caspian, snickering under his beard.

Any other time, I'd demand to know what, precisely, is so amusing, but for the moment my main interest is making sure those two children don't start at it again, or at the very least that they save it for when I'm not in the room.

"Is that Rose?" Eustace whispers behind his hand to Caspian. His attempt at being discrete is, quite frankly, ridiculous.

"In the flesh," Caspian answers, his amusement temporarily under control.

"She's just like you described. Very prickly."

"And I will be even more so if you continue that infernal jabbering around me again," I interject with a scowl and a quirk of my eyebrow.

"Well, it's nice to see a fellow lady taking charge," says the girl. There's that attitude that I can't stand again.

"Caspian, for the love of Aslan send someone to get them settled or I will school them the same way I have schooled you in the past," I grind out through gritted teeth.

Caspian's smirk returns at my shortness, but he does have the owl – Glimfeather, he calls him – take this Jill and Eustace to rooms for a good bath. Lion knows they could use one.

The moment the oaken doors shut behind the trio, Caspian turns to me still thoroughly entertained.

"Your patience is thin today," he says, almost as an open dare for me to argue back and prove his point.

"There's a very good reason I have not had a child, and you've just seen it," I retort as calmly as I am able in the wake of such annoyance. "I don't have the patience for their quarrelling."

Caspian begins walking, the red carpet quieting his footsteps, and smiles outright.

"Perhaps that is best, though I think any child of yours would learn the value of silence rather swiftly."

"I'll not be testing the theory." I fall into step beside him with a barely-contained grimace. "But enough of that. Do you think Aslan really did send them?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," he answers. His next words are quiet and relieved. "Aslan has heard my prayers."

I smile at the change in him. These two children have brought back a bit of his youth, and for that reason alone I will find a way to tolerate them. Perhaps those two mosquitos will prove of some use aside from buzzing about to annoy after all.

"When they return from their cleaning, we have to find out about those four signs. If Aslan told them more about Rilian, it might be quicker than simply tracking the witch. That could take weeks."

Caspian nods, clearly pleased. "I believe they will be a great help."

Lion forgive my next words, but in my defense they cannot, entirely, be helped.

"Only if they refrain from fighting every other minute. If they cannot, I've half a mind to send them to the witch gift-wrapped myself." Grumbling comes with the ease of a lifetime of practice, and it relieves some of the tension that's built up from this morning's rattling events.

"Now Rose, you mustn't say that," Caspian chides.

"I still stand by it. But if they help us find your son I will find a way to bear them." In spite of my mood, I send a small smile up at my friend. I am, after all, here to help him.

Appreciation glistens in his eyes, stifling the sharp regret that wells when my hand returns to my side.

I excuse myself on the pretense of doing some research in the library on ancient magical beings, but in all honestly I want some distance. Caspian's mood is almost the opposite of this morning, yet I'm not entirely comfortable after that heated exchange. I know I can't hide that forever.

Still, to keep up pretenses I go to the library and pull out the first book on ancient magic that I find. My mind wanders within minutes and I replay Caspian's words, the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he practically dragged me to the witch's signature. In all our years as friends, I can't say I've seen anything close to that look before.

Was it the remnants of the witch's obviously powerful magic playing with his mind? Or perhaps it truly was just the grief and the desperation that latched onto the kernel of hope I offered. For a moment, I wish I hadn't said anything.

I lift my head from the words about the White Witch that I'm barely processing to stare at the bookshelves as if they hold the right answer. Is that cherry wood? Perhaps mahogany? The shelves are rather dark, rich in color and stuffed to the brim with intricately decorated books.

No, of course I did the right thing by telling Caspian about his son. Had I not, we wouldn't know to look for him…but then again, Caspian was set on finding the snake anyway so I could have said nothing on the chance that Rilian is killed before we find her. At least then, Caspian's hope wouldn't stand the chance of being crushed.

But in that split second, I was so caught up in relief and joy that I couldn't help blurting it out. Why wouldn't I want Caspian to know that he may have a piece of his family left? If only I'd been more prepared for his reaction. Moreover, I truly don't think the green lady will kill Rilian. She killed Lilliandil on sight; I think that if she meant to end Narnia's Crown Prince, she'd have done so already. No, she must have a greater plan for him, though I can't say what it could be. She could be planning to have him marry a Calormen tarkheena for all I know.

Her plans, whatever they are, give me even more unease. She may have twisted Rilian so completely beyond recognition that seeing the enchantment's work will be even worse for Caspian than if Rilian were dead altogether. Hope always accompanies the worst torture.

Shaking my head, I slam the book shut and stop that train of thought right in its tracks. I shouldn't rehash a decision that I can't take back. Caspian knows there is a chance for his son, and that's that. I can't change my words now, and even if I could I'm not sure I would. Were I in Caspian's shoes, I would never forgive him if he kept something like that from me.

It is Caspian himself who comes to get me once the two children have been cleaned. His idea is to feed them lunch while we learn the full tale from them.

"It will help keep their mouths occupied," he says with a smile in reply to my pursed lips.

I rise from my perch at the window seat, return the book to its shelf, and follow Caspian from the library with a rather dubious face.

"Was Rilian ever this impossible?"

I regret my words the moment they leave my mouth. Yet, Caspian doesn't react as I fear; he is only a little saddened and answers without too much unease.

"No. He was mischievous, but never quite so prone to quarreling."

Should I apologize for bringing him up? Perhaps, yes. I open my mouth to do just that, but Caspian hushes me before the words come tumbling out.

"Rose, it's alright. He is not lost forever."

I do hope he's right.

Thankfully, by now we've reached the dining hall where Eustace and Jill await. Unsurprisingly, they're at it again.

"What was that you said about keeping their mouths busy?" I mutter to Caspian as a particularly loud insult from Jill calling Eustace a perfect beast echoes through the hall.

"The food is not here yet."

I'm startled to find Caspian...smiling. He looks happy, content even. The shadows of late are almost gone from his face. Is the arrival of two human children so important to him?

"Wait a moment, wasn't Eustace on the _Dawn Treader_ with you?" I vaguely remember Caspian mentioning the boy during his first visit to Tanssi Kuun when he got back from the voyage. If I'm not mistaken, Eustace is the one who was turned into a dragon.

"The very same."

At once, even though I'm considering the ramifications of locking the quarrelling duo in the dungeon for the night to scare the irritability right out of them, I'm glad they're here. Caspian needs this reminder of days past.

"Regardless," I answer as my patience begins to stretch thin in spite of myself. "Would you _please_ make them shut up?"

Aunt would shake her head at that, but I can't help but think even gentle Aunt would understand my sentiment with these two children. They simply don't stop!

Caspian clears his throat first. Jill and Eustace carry on, oblivious. He does so again, and louder this time. How do those two not hear the king of Narnia clearing his throat? And I heard such good things about Eustace. Perhaps he needs to spend more time as a dragon…

"That's enough!" At last, Caspian raises his voice.

The two guilty parties stop and glance at Caspian almost sheepishly.

"Sorry," Eustace mutters. Oh, but I'm not sure he's entirely sorry, not with that glare he sends Jill's way. Charming, those two. Really.

"Quarrel later if you must, but do wait until Rose is out of earshot."

I shoot a look of plain gratitude Caspian's way as he finishes the reprimand. Thank the Lion he's at least gotten them quiet for now. And before Jill and Eustace can start talking again, I quickly take my seat at the table and cut right to what we need to know.

"Earlier you mentioned four signs from Aslan. What did you mean?"

I don't miss Caspian's well-hidden smirk as he sits down beside me. He's still amused at my inherent distaste for annoying children.

"Well," begins Jill as she seats herself and takes the napkin from the table. She pats the fabric down primly on her lap. "We've gotten the first one done."

"Finding an old friend," Eustace cuts in with a smile directed at Caspian.

Jill sends Eustace a glare cold enough to freeze the summer sun and continues. I'm quite sure that the _only_ reason she doesn't start going at Eustace again is because I'm sitting right here.

"Secondly, we're to journey north and out of Narnia to a…oh goodness, what was it?" For a moment, Jill looks positively distressed and turns about three shades paler. But when she speaks again, her color returns. "A ruined city, that's right! We're to journey north to a ruined city of the Giants."

"And these directions were given to you by Aslan himself?" There is no I-told-you-so in Caspian's gaze now, only wonder. It's been many years since he saw Aslan, after all.

Jill nods, looking quite pleased with herself, and continues. "And once we reach the city, we've got to find an old stone with writing on it, and do what the writing tells us."

"He didn't mention where in the city the stone would be?" I ask.

Cities are large places, and a Giant city must be unfathomably huge. How would we go about finding one bit of writing on one little stone? And that's another thing: what is normal writing to a Giant might not be quite readable to us, to say the least.

Jill shakes her head. "He didn't. Oh, and the fourth! We're to know Prince Rilian by this: that he'll be the first in our travels to ask us something in Aslan's name."

"That one seems a bit odd," supplies Eustace. "After all, Caspian, I should think you'd know your own son."

"Perhaps there is some difficulty in our journey that Aslan has seen," Caspian answers with heaviness in his voice again. "He would not ask it of you were it not of vital importance."

Difficulty indeed. Perhaps the enchantment over Rilian is worse than I thought.

* * *

 **We'll be getting the quest going soon! Who's excited? :)**

 **Review!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Sorry this is a little late, NaNo was wrapping up and finals are coming! In other news, I just got a really really good part of this story the other night and I am _so excited_ for this guys! Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride ;)**

 **And of course, a thousand thank you's to wildhorses1492 for reviewing. It's always makes my day when I read what you have to say. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **(Caspian POV)**

The moment Eustace and Jill have shared all they know, Caspian knows he has to excuse himself to finish his preparations for Narnia. He still has yet to inform the council. He blames himself for his negligence; dealing with the council is still one of his least favorite activities. Caspian knows well what their response to his quest will be: concern and indignation. Denial, primarily. They will attempt to lecture him – their king of over two decades now – about his duty to his country and to let search parties be sent out to seek Rilian rather than his own personage.

Though Caspian will never admit it to Rose, the squabbling between Eustace and Jill has taken a toll on his patience. They are only children; he must remind himself of that repeatedly. When last he saw Eustace, he was many years younger and much closer to childhood himself. And now he is a grown man with a grieving heart, and a piece of him simply can't fathom why Aslan would send children to help him find his son.

As Caspian excuses himself from the table as politely as he can, apologizing silently to Rose for leaving her on her own with the two, he reminds himself over and over again that Aslan has a purpose for all things...even the dark happenings of late. There has to be some reason for it, some deeper meaning that he is missing.

Caspian schools himself into his calm, kingly visage as he makes his way to the council chambers. Fortunately, he had made the call to gather them yesterday and so he avoided wasting an entire day waiting for them to arrive. Striding through the halls of Cair Paravel, Caspian prepares for what he is to tell them. He has driven many a point home over the years, but this is different. This is the closest to his heart that any council matter has been. It is not so easy to remain detached and authoritative when the matter concerns him so intimately.

The door thuds open, and Caspian strides into the room and takes his seat at the head of the long table. It's Telmarine tradition to have lordly seats along the edge of the room with an open space in the middle for any speakers, but Caspian prefers sitting at a table. Not only is it fitting to depart from that tradition with the addition of the Narnian council members, but he often brings notes to the meetings and it's much easier to keep them together on a table than in his lap.

Many of the lords are here already, and each of them stand and bow their respect as Caspian enters. He acknowledges their greetings with a gracious nod and sits down with no hint of his inner unrest upon his face. He has always done his utmost to present a strong visage to these lords, as custom and common sense deemed necessary. That will not change any time soon.

Ordinarily, Caspian would make pleasant conversation with some of the lords as they await the arrival of the remainder of their number, but today he has no such concerns for mingling. He is focused solely on communicating what he intends to do without leaving room for argument.

When the last lord has filtered in, Caspian begins the session.

"My lords," he begins, with a strong voice and an even stronger will. "I have called you here today to inform you of my plans to eliminate this new threat to Narnia."

The lords shift in their seats; they know he's about to say something drastic and that he won't be talked down.

"I will be leaving Cair Paravel on the morrow to seek the serpent and my son."

Shocked murmurs break out throughout the room. Caspian remembers that he neglected to inform them that Rilian was, in fact, alive.

"With the help of a dear friend, I have learned that Rilian is not lost to us. The Great Lion himself has sent aid to me. I will be joined by three companions on my quest."

Caspian pauses to allow them to speak if they wish. Today, he would rather deal with the objections as soon as they come up, for if he waits until the end of his announcement and tries to deal with all of them at once, he will surely lose a piece of his temper.

"Your Majesty," begins Lord Argoz. "Not one of us present here could fault you for this quest. But I must entreat you to think of this country. Without the Crown Prince, you are the last rightful king."

Caspian truly listens to Lord Argoz, in no small part because he is one of the Seven Lords of Telmar that he set voyaged to find. But even the Telmarine lord loyal to his father cannot change his mind.

"Lord Argoz," Caspian replies with all due respect. "I must assure you that I have given the wellbeing of Narnia every thought and consideration. Yet I cannot leave Rilian to the clutches of a witch without taking every effort to free him. He is my son."

A hushed silence falls over the council room. Some of the lords nod their agreement, and some refrain from showing their opinion as of yet. Caspian chooses to continue.

"I have already arranged for the Lord Trumpkin to handle the affairs of Narnia in my absence, to be assisted by the wisdom of General Glenstorm and the Lord Drinian. Together with this honored body, Narnia will be as safe as I can make her."

A brief pause. Caspian hardens his gaze.

"Perhaps," says the faun Ornus, "Your Majesty should send another. There are a great many knights who would be glad of the honor."

Caspian stiffens, though he knew to expect this. Well, not quite; he expected it from the remaining Telmarine lords. Not from a Narnian. Had they forgotten that he rode at the head of every war?

"A king should not hide behind stone walls," Caspian replies with a sort of forced calm. "I will seek my son and the worm with the aid that the Great Lion himself has sent."

Stunned murmurs sweep through the room. Perhaps Caspian should have mentioned the arrival of the children sooner, but in truth he was preoccupied with crafting his rebuttal to the suggestion that he send a search party in his place.

"Aslan has sent aid to us?" Ornus is the first to speak, eyes wide and shining with hope.

Caspian affirms this with a smile. "Yes. Two children He has sent, one of them Eustace – the cousin of the Kings and Queens of Old, if you recall."

"You intend to bring children with you, Your Majesty?" asks Lord Pesbian, a second cousin of the departed General Glozelle. Lord Pesbian questions Caspian more openly than some of the others, though with great respect still.

"I do not question the judgment of Aslan," Caspian reprimands as gently as he can. "They will accompany me on my journey northward, as will an old friend of mine from years past."

To this day, Caspian never calls Rose by name to the council. It was at her request; though he had rooted out those responsible for her arrest quickly and decisively, she didn't want to take chances and he had little ground to refuse her the comfort.

Silence reigns in the room, enough of it to make even the smallest creak or grumble painfully audible. Caspian waits patiently. Waiting is a staple in any council session, and most especially in this one.

"We wish Your Majesty all good fortune and the blessing of the Lion," says Lord Revilian, another of the Seven Lost Lords who returned to Narnia. Most others in the room echo his sentiment, and those who do not echo it at the very least don't object.

Caspian lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. With the blessing of the council, all will be in order at last. With a gracious smile, Caspian thanks them for their well-wishes and dismisses the council meeting with renewed hope.

* * *

Upon the coming of evening, Caspian finds himself confronted with a peeved Rosamar.

"I know why you left so abruptly," Rose begins with her hands perched on her hips and a scowl adorning her face. "But by the Lion, Caspian, have you any idea how impossible those two can be?"

Caspian can't help an amused smile as he closes the door of his study behind him and approaches Rosamar with the most penitent expression he can muster.

"You have my sincere apologies. I could not delay the council meeting another minute."

Rose quirks an eyebrow at his barely-disguised entertainment at her annoyance. In spite of himself, Caspian isn't sorry. It lightens his heart to be around such liveliness as is brought by Eustace, Jill, and Rose's disenchantment with their antics.

"Accepted," she grumbles nonetheless, falling into step beside him as they walk down the hallway, torches burning on the walls. Evening comes quicker and earlier by the day. Already, dinnertime is beginning to fall after sunset.

"Perhaps you only happen upon Eustace and Jill when they happen to be arguing?" he offers, though he knows it will earn him another scowl.

Indeed it does. The pursing of his lips in a poor attempt to hide a grin earns him a deeper-set one than usual to boot.

"I don't particularly care _why_ they are always fighting," Rose states flatly. "The little I require is that they cease to do so upon my arrival."

Caspian tells himself that he should not, under any circumstances, tell Eustace to purposely start a tiff whenever he knows Rose to be on her way. It would make the journey north rather trying for her, after all, and Caspian has little wish to make her unhappy when she traveled across the country to offer her help.

"I'm not sure if I properly expressed my gratitude to you," Caspian blurts out. Rose stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You never need to," she interrupts, stopping in her tracks to stop him with firm hands. "Caspian, how could I do anything else? You helped me immeasurably years ago; what kind of ingrate would I be if I couldn't do the same for you?"

Caspian is, in short…speechless. His heart swells at her loyalty and he thanks Aslan to have a friend such as her.

"And besides," she continues, releasing his shoulders and suddenly avoiding his eyes. "Lilli was dear to me as well."

He'd almost forgotten; he'd been so focused on avenging his wife that it repeatedly slipped his mind how close Rose and Lilli were. Yet, Caspian knows she will brush off any offered comfort on his part. It is just her way.

"Nevertheless, I thank you." Caspian knows this makes Rose a little uncomfortable, so he takes her arm into the crook of his own and leads them down the hall to dinner.

* * *

Departing early in the morning is, unsurprisingly, not a venture Jill and Eustace express their support for. Caspian does have to commend them on their self-control, however. They hardly complain aloud, though they can barely speak a full sentence without being interrupted by a yawn. Jill seems to be worse off than Eustace.

"Bless you both for being quiet, for once," Rose mutters as she joins the party in the throne room, squinting against the sunlight flooding in through the stained-glass windows.

Neither Eustace nor Jill offer a comment in return, though Caspian can't quite tell if it's because they didn't hear her or they are deliberately ignoring the jab. Himself, he's of the mind that the early hour doesn't agree with Rose either, but Caspian is wise enough to keep his mouth shut on that subject.

Without much further ado, the party turns to Glenstorm, Trumpkin, and Lord Drinian. The trio who will be in charge of Narnia during the quest insisted in seeing them off, and Caspian could only encourage them.

"The Lion guide you, Majesty." Glenstorm begins the goodbyes gravely. His solemn tone reminds all of them of the seriousness of the endeavor. Caspian instantly thinks of Rilian as he accepts the General's good wish.

"And you as well, General Glenstorm," Caspian returns. The two clasp hands in farewell before Caspian moves to Trumpkin.

"I suppose I'll be eating those biscuits on my own," grumbles the dwarf.

"I am sure Ornus would be more than happy to take tea with you in my place," Caspian says with a small smile. Indeed, he already made the arrangements for such. The faun's gentle nature would be a good offset to the dwarf's gruff exterior.

"Eh? Who's that?" Trumpkin is beginning to show his age in the form of slight hearing difficulties. Most especially with unfamiliar terms. "Ortus?"

"Ornus," Caspian says a little louder. "Ornus will take tea with you."

"Well, that's all good then," the dwarf grudgingly concedes. "Very good indeed."

Caspian shakes his head and moves to stand before Lord Drinian, who has been conducting a thorough study of either his shoes or the polished stone tiles beneath them.

"Lord Drinian," says Caspian with compassion in his voice.

"Your Majesty," acknowledges the former captain of the _Dawn Treader_. "Safe travels. May the Lion be ever at your side."

"And at yours, my friend." Caspian clasps the hand of Lord Drinian tight and leans in to whisper one final message. "Forgiveness is the right of all men."

Caspian knows that the final step for Drinian is to forgive himself. Caspian has forgiven him already, though he sometimes has to do it all over again in spite of his best intentions. Aslan too will forgive, if only Drinian allows it.

The Lord Drinian acknowledges his king's words with a tiny nod. When Caspian returns to the younger trio awaiting him and looks back, it seems to him that Drinian's shoulders are not quite so bent in sorrow.

It is a good sight to leave with. And so the quest begins.

* * *

"Shouldn't we be stopping for lunch soon?" comes the timid voice of Jill Pole around noon, right as the party is coming near that fateful meadow.

Caspian considers this, but his heart tugs him onward. Yet how can he refuse such a simple request?

"Here." Rose's voice interrupts his torn thoughts.

When he glances over, his friend is handing the uncharacteristically quiet Jill an apple.

"You can eat as we walk, yes?"

This is the kindest Caspian has seen Rose towards either of the youngsters, and it lifts his spirit a bit. He smiles his gratitude the next time she happens to glance his way.

The first day of their journey has little excitement. Aside from Jill shifting her pack about on her back and creating a bit of a rustling sort of ruckus, they all get on quite well. By the day's end they come upon the Northern Marshes. They will spend the night here with the glum-faced Marshwiggles for company and start off for the River Shribble and Ettinsmoor in the morning at first light.

"Well, I daresay this isn't so frightful," declares Eustace as they enter the marshes.

"Oh no," starts Jill in a voice that said she thought exactly the opposite. "Nothing like it."

Caspian glances over at Rose and finds her bristling and obviously expecting the first spat of the quest to break out right then and there. She seems to be biting her tongue against a preemptive retort, but thankfully a gangly figure appears from the fog covering the swamp and interrupts the whole thing before it begins.

"I say," comes a droning voice. "Four travelers, and at this hour. Bandits, I shouldn't wonder."

"With a good will, honest Marsh-wiggle," Caspian calls out before anyone else can say something to prompt a long enumeration of negativity from the creature. "We are mere travelers headed north and seeking lodging for the night."

"Lodging, is it? Well come along then. Not that you'll find the lodging at all pleasant. Dreadfully unsuited for anyone but a Marsh-wiggle. You'll be wet through by morning, I shouldn't wonder."

Caspian smiles fondly. Marsh-wiggles are notoriously downtrodden creatures with a nurtured knack for finding the most pessimistic result and setting their expectations all on it.

"What a wet blanket," comes Eustace's not-so-quiet whisper. Caspian supposes it was meant for Jill, though it's quite easy to hear from up here with the Marsh-wiggle.

Out of politeness and to keep Eustace and Jill from saying anything else ill-advised, Caspian asks the Marsh-wiggle's name.

"Puddleglum," comes the appropriately glum reply. "Though not much use in telling you that, is there? You've forgotten it at once, I shouldn't doubt it."

Just to prove him wrong, Caspian makes a point of addressing the Marsh-wiggle when he ushers them into a small, warm, and rather cozy wigwam. "We are grateful for the lodgings, Master Puddleglum," he says with a pointed glance. "Your hospitality is much appreciated."

"By the Lion!" exclaims Puddleglum at once, as the wavery light of the lantern falls just right upon Caspian's face. "Your Majesty, what brings you to the marshes? Nasty weather this, and no royal lodging, that's the truth."

"Peace, good Puddleglum," Caspian says with a smile. "The dark hides a face well."

"Why didn't he say where we're going?" Jill's whisper is much, much quieter than Eustace's; Caspian can only just barely hear it.

"I don't think Aslan told you to go blathering it to just anyone," Rose whispers back. Caspian almost tells her to ease up, but he realizes there wasn't any bite to the retort. It was merely common sense to keep Jill from asking any more obvious questions.

"Yes, well," Puddleglum says, "A good night to you, then. Safe travels, Your Majesty. Though with the luck of late, I suppose you'll never get that far. You'll be killed by tomorrow's sunset, I shouldn't wonder."

"Thank you," Caspian quickly cuts in, determined to interrupt the whole depressing tirade before it gets much further. "And a good night to you as well."

Puddleglum leaves the wigwam with a long-faced smile and takes the lantern with him, leaving the four in almost complete darkness.

"Well," Eustace says, voice echoing a bit in the dark wigwam – that was not, prior to Puddleglum's prediction, very cold or wet or generally unpleasant at all, "That's a lovely start to the journey."

"Have you met a Marsh-wiggle before?" Jill asks. Caspian really isn't sure whom she's talking to, nor does he think anyone else does. "Rose," she adds.

Rose replies in the negative, "I can't say I have. I've never been to the marshes before. Caspian's the only one here who has."

"Wait now," Eustace suddenly buts in. "Was that on your way to the Giant War?"

Caspian is a little shocked that Eustace remembered that detail, since he spent the majority of his beginning time on the _Dawn Treader_ sulking about and generally avoiding most everyone on the ship. Nevertheless, Caspian answers without giving away his sentiment.

"It was," he says mildly. "The Marsh-wiggles do much of the water-related work in Narnia. They helped build the _Dawn Treader,_ you know."

Eustace seems mildly surprised by this new information. He, no doubt, had thought on first impression that Marsh-wiggles were a very private people who didn't get out into the world beyond the marshes much at all. Caspian thought that too, until they offered to help ensure the _Dawn Treader_ was as sound a vessel as she could be.

"And they did a fine job, as you may well remember," Caspian can't help but add, smiling at the old memories of happier times.

"Alright," Rose cuts in rather sternly. "We've a long day of traveling tomorrow, and it'll be all the more unpleasant if we're cranky and under-rested." Her tone brokers no argument, and no sooner have her words echoed in the wigwam than the shuffles of the children bedding down echo too.

Caspian wonders that she hasn't yet had children, in spite of what she told him about her level of patience. She has that motherly tone down to a tee. He whispers as much to her as he searches out his own corner of the wigwam, but he gets a much simpler answer than he expected.

Rose's garments whisper, most probably from a shrug of her shoulders. "We aren't ready for that," she says as if it's the simplest and most obvious thing in all the world. "I've no time for children of my own."

Caspian is surprised still, but he knows from how she – literally – shrugs off the question that he had best leave it be. She is likely as busy with Tanssi Kuun as ever. Even so, Caspian is a little sorry she's not had at least one child. He thinks it would be force to be reckoned with. Perhaps it would be hot-headed like her, with Darin's patience to temper the fiery tendencies.

All at once, Caspian finds the words are spilling from his mouth before he can stop them.

"It would be a special child, to have you as a mother," is the phrase that falls from his lips. Caspian braces himself for a vehement tongue-lashing. Though Rose has mellowed over the years, she's never afraid to push back if he brings up the wrong thing.

"I have enough on my hands with…" Rose seems to suddenly remember that it's not just the two of them in the room. "Well, you know. And it's my choice anyway."

There it is. The warning of hostility in her voice is clearer than glass. Caspian had best leave it alone, and not speak another word of it.

"Well," he begins with an awkward clearing of his throat. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

 **And so the quest begins! Thoughts so far?**

 **Review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Late again! This time it's finals I can blame. Any since the past few chapters have been late, I'm extending the update schedule to two weeks. Another reason is that as I was editing this thing, I decided to change a pretty major plot point and now I have to rewrite most of the story for about ten chapters or so. Bear with me guys, for Moonrose all this happened before I even posted. Business aside, here's the next chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **(Rose POV)**

I wake up in the middle of the night courtesy of the Eustace and Caspian's infernal snoring. Eustace's snorts, I recognize from Caspian's anecdotes of his pig-like noises during the voyage. And Caspian, well, he's napped enough times in Tanssi Kuun that I have been graced with the misfortune of knowing his cacophonous drivel by heart. He didn't used to wake the very dead with his nightly serenades, but as the years have gone by it's gotten nearly unbearable. I consider myself fully justified in leaving the warmth of the wigwam in favor of the damp marshy air.

Goosebumps pop up on my arms the moment the wigwam flaps close behind me. I almost turn back around as the frigid fall air nips at my skin, but even from out here the snoring is plain as day. I don't know how Jill is managing to sleep through that racket, but bless her for it.

Shaking my head in annoyance, I squelch away from the wigwam until the snores fade away, leaving only the whisper of wind on water and the occasional hum of the reeds brushing in the breeze. I open a pocket on my belt and release a faerie ribbon into the air. It was their parting gift to me. Seeing the multi-colored reminder of home brings a tentative smile to my lips. It dances on ahead, leaving me little choice but to follow the spirited wisp away from my friends and into the night.

In spite of my slight irritation at the boys for waking me up, I'm glad for the time to myself. Something tells me it's going to be scarce in the coming weeks, and I can't expect to get by on a few hours of sleep every night if I'm to be of much help. As I've gotten older, I just can't escape with an hour or two and be of useful coherency the next day like I used to. It's made my visits to Tanssi Kuun less frequent, but I stay longer when I'm there.

The ribbon floating in front of me, sometimes wrapping around my wrist and tugging me along and sometimes bobbing along several paces in front of me, reminds me of home. The faeries. A lump rises in my throat; I miss them already.

This is not, by any measure, the longest I've been away from them, but I am well aware that it will soon become that. I trust Darin as much as I trust myself to look after them, but I can't help but worry. After all, if that snake left by another door, it could have gotten back in the same way. I've no way of knowing.

Perhaps Darin will think of that, and perhaps he'll search the entirety of Tanssi Kuun to see if it's possible…but I don't know for sure, and I'm not likely to see him any sooner than I'll see the faeries.

My ribbon companion interrupts my worrying with another stronger pull on my wrist, but this time it doesn't let go.

"What is it?" I ask. I know it's not, strictly speaking, a living creature, but so help me it's acting like one.

My answer is another insistent yank. I stumble along, confused, with the squishing of the marsh under my shoes punctuating every step. Does this ribbon somehow know something I don't?

I follow the determined little thing for what must be close to an hour or perhaps more, with no way of finding my way back to the wigwam. I'm not familiar with the marshes, and I wouldn't know one reed or strip of mud from the next in the daylight, let alone in the middle of the night.

After a little while longer, the mud under my shoes gives way to a more solid ground. We must have been near the edge of the marsh, to have gotten out of it so quickly. Well, in a matter of hours.

"Where are you taking me?" I whisper to the pulsing light still practically dragging me along.

A strike of urgency surges up my arm and stabs at my heart. Gasping, I stop in my tracks and clutch at my chest, breathless with the overwhelming sense of danger. I'm moments away from cursing at the little ribbon guide, but the moment it pulls me forward, I understand.

The signature of the witch shines clear and deadly in my mind.

My ribbon guide loosens from my wrist and hovers before me, solemn and sad. Is this what it was trying to tell me? Magic can sense other magic, I suppose…

I step closer to my little guide, and sure enough I stay on the witch's trail. Another step, and the same. A glance up at the sky pricks my heart with fear. West. She headed west. Not north, west. Or perhaps west then north? Aslan wouldn't be mistaken. He never said which north, did he? He could have meant westward-north just as easily as eastward-north.

If she stayed to the west…that puts Telmara right in her path.

My blood runs colder than ice in my veins. I'm almost overtaken by the urge to sprint to that city, to the home I've made with Darin just to see that he's alright. After all, what would the witch want with Telmara?

Unless…

Quicker than the thought can finish, I whip around and race back the way I came, breath clouding before my lips and heart hammering against my ribs. Dawn is nearing, but if I hurry I can find my way back to the wigwam and tell Caspian that I have to go west and I have to go _now_ because oh it's not just him she's destroying, it's all of us. The three of us who thwarted her in the fields of Tanssi Kuun those years ago.

The ribbon flits ahead of me and takes my wrist once more, and I whisper my thanks as it tugs me back the way we came. Even running at this pace, I have more than an hour before I can hope to reach the wigwam.

An odd combination of soothing calm and insistent haste comes to me from this ribbon leading me along. It's not so surprising to me that it knows exactly what I need, but even this piece of Tanssi Kuun can't stop the fear hammering away at my skull.

Mud flies up from my feet as I reenter the marsh, painting the hem of my skirt and sticking to my legs. Oh if I'm too late…

My feet don't slow, but at once I grasp onto a desperate straw of fool's hope. Perhaps she only went west to avoid the searches Caspian would have sent out if the council got its way. Perhaps she simply went west to…to…to meet with an old friend, or perhaps to take the path we wouldn't expect, or perhaps to go through a better part of the Giant territory. She needn't go to Telmara; there's nothing for her there…

It's a fool's chance, but it's still a chance. After all, how could she know that we stayed in the city? How would she know that we didn't move someplace else?

Dawn breaks just as I skid to a stop in front of the wigwam. My ribbon guide releases my wrist and slips back into my pocket, hidden as if it were never there. Snores resonate from in front of me, stopping me in my tracks with the sheer normality. How can they sleep when—?

They don't know, they don't know and I have to remember that or I know I'll start screaming. I just have to explain things, that's all. Just explain, just tell them that I'm going to Telmara because the witch went that way and I'm just checking to see if she took a detour.

My hand is inches from the wigwam flaps when I freeze. Tell them? Tell them what, exactly? I don't know anything for sure. With how Caspian's been acting lately, how can I expect him to understand?

My fingers tingle with the ugly realization. I can't. Caspian's been off-kilter ever since we figured out Rilian is alive. Before that, I know he would have understood and told me to return when I could. But now? Now I have no way of knowing whether he'll accept that I have to go home to make sure Darin and Sima and Nina are safe or if he'll grow angry and try to force me into staying with the group. I don't want to think like this, but what choice do I have? I have to go home, and once I see that everything is fine then I can rejoin Caspian in his quest.

A pang of guilt clenches around my heart as I slip inside the wigwam on my tiptoes. Those infernal snores that irked me so much earlier in the night now seem innocent, trusting. I set my jaw and think once more of that witch's trace left behind, of Darin, of Sima and Nina. I can't change my mind now, I can't risk not getting there quickly enough and finding something I couldn't bear.

Bending down, I search my pack for paper and a quill. I don't think I brought any, but I have to check. My shaking hands rifle through the necessities, past the dried meats and breads and extra pair of shoes. I search and search, and nothing. No paper, no scrap of anything to write on, and nothing to write with. What now? I could look in Caspian's bag, but I don't like the idea of going through his things.

A glance over my shoulder provides me with an alternate solution. I don't like it, but what else can I do?

On silent feet, I pad over to Jill. I still have no idea how she slept the night with these two snoring away. It must not have been a very deep sleep however; she wakes easily when I jostle her shoulder.

A yawn prevents her from saying anything straight up, thank Aslan. I put my fingers to my lips at once and jerk my head at the door. Confusion crinkles her forehead, but she does as I say without making a ruckus. Well, too much. Her foot catches on Eustace's stray leg flung out into the middle of the floor and he grunts in between snores, but he doesn't wake. I let out the breath I couldn't help holding and ease back outside with Jill on my heels.

"What?" she whispers through a yawn, as soon as the flap closes behind her.

"I need a favor," I reply. My palms bead with sweat. "I'm going away for a little while, but I'll join up with you again soon. I need you to tell Caspian that for me."

A morning breeze whisks by, ruffling our clothes. Jill shivers, clutching at her arms.

"Where are you going?"

For a heartbeat I'm not sure how much to say. I won't have to worry about Caspian trying to follow me, but I may well have to contend with his annoyance when I reappear.

"I have to check on something important. Back home." I can't help but question my judgment the moments the words have left my mouth, but they're said now and I can't change them. If I find that things aren't fine, he'll be able to ask a more pointed question. But that was vague enough that I can make all the excuses I need if...if things are worse than I'm hoping.

"All right."

Jill stifles another yawn, leaving me to marvel. I didn't expect her to agree so easily. Perhaps they're not so bad in the mornings after all, the children.

I smile. "Tell him I'll meet you at the Giants' bridge in two weeks' time." I shoulder my pack and start off, fully intending to use the faeries' ribbon as a guide when I can, once I'm out of sight. "Thank you," I say to Jill.

The young girl waves back, miraculously without yawning. "Good luck, with that important thing."

I wave back before striding into the marsh the way I came minutes ago, ignoring the guilt still lurking in the back of my mind.

* * *

Alone, I make much better time than I could have hoped to with the others. I can run for as long as I can manage, and walk until my legs ache and cramp the rest of the time. That first day I don't stop for anything, not even the night. I keep up that schedule for three days before my body is so tired I have to give in to the need to rest. And so after three and a half days of endless, tireless traveling, I find myself lying awake, staring at the stars and trying to get the sleep I need.

It won't come.

My legs practically gave out on me earlier, so I know I can't push on. I have to rest, but how? How can I when that snake's trail is still fresh under my boots and Telmara is only days away? When Darin is there and the witch is ahead of me and what if she _is_ trying to hurt the people I love?

Just the thought of losing any of them – Darin, Sima, Nina – and I can't breathe. I haven't felt this kind of weight on my chest since I was first fighting for Tanssi Kuun.

Oh Lion, the pendant.

Mine is safe around my neck as always, but Darin's? If the witch finds him, would she know to—

I leap to my feet in an instant. I don't care that my legs can barely move, I can't wait! I can't waste time trying to find rest that won't come when it's not just my husband, the people I love, but the entire world I'm responsible for too.

My knees tremble with my first step. I grit my teeth and ignore it. Another step. Lion, I should rest.

But I can't until I know that everything I care about most is safe. My body screams otherwise, limbs ready to buckle under me all sense of urgency be damned. On my third step, my legs crumble beneath my weight and I tumble back to the ground, autumn leaves crunching under my body. I spit a stray stem from my mouth and try not to scream. I have to get to the city, and I have to get there soon; for Lion's sake, why won't my body cooperate?

"Get up," I whisper. The sound rattles the edges of the leaves beneath my face, but my arms flop uselessly. "Get up." My rasp helps no more the second time. Again I try to force my arms under me, and again they buckle and sink back into the leaves.

If only Darin were here. He always could bring out that extra kernel of strength in me.

I refuse to think about whether I've already used that extra bit in the previous days' frantic hike.

"Resting won't help," I grit past teeth chattering with exhaustion. "Get up."

A moment of hope, at last. My arms flex under my shoulders and hold. I try pushing, praying for some miracle that will get me on my way faster.

This time when my arms fail me, I do scream. Yet even that it half its strength, jerking through the air with barely enough volume to wake the night creatures. So I can't even voice my frustration now? Perfect.

A tugging, pulsing sort of sensation tickling at my hip jolts my attention away from self-pity. Fumbling, my fingers find their way to the pouch there and release the faeries' ribbon into the night air. The light is a welcome, welcome sight. It's almost calming.

All of the ribbon's previous franticness has gone, and instead it glides to and fro in front of me. I can't help but follow its movements with my eyes. Right, a little to the left, then a dip downward, then a swoop toward the sky. It's dancing for me, dancing to lull me…

I'm lost to the world of dreams before I can finish the thought.

* * *

Waking the next morning is a painful, slow process. I have little choice but to rest well into the day, past noon even. Sleep has reminded me what I might find in Telmara: the witch, the snake. If I'm to be ready for her, I can't be moments from keeling over.

After my rest, it's back on the road, never mind the aches and pangs in every muscle. I make sure to rest at least a few hours at night, and so it takes me another five excruciating days to get in sight of the city. But oh, when at last I see it towering above the field before me, what relief! I can only hope I've gotten here in time.

No sooner have I let that hope blossom than I feel it. The witch passed this way, heading straight for the city, and I'm still following her footsteps. Recently too.

Enough of relief and hope. They can do nothing. Fear stabs at me, but I bat that away too. None of those feelings will help me now. Only running, bolting for the city and praying that everyone is still safe will be of any use. So with one last whooshing breath, I take off at a dead run.

My race to the city lasts far too long, no matter that it's the fastest I've gotten there in my life. My heart presses painfully against my ribs, reminding me with every frantic, pleading beat what I am most afraid of and what I most want to stop.

All my reasonings of the witch not heading to the city are now gone, and all I have left is my hope that she has forgotten all about me. After all, what could my husband gain her? Darin is no lynchpin of Narnia, and neither am I. She would gain nothing by hurting either of us, and especially not him. And Sima, Sima is far too old to pose a threat. And what harm could Nina serve? There's no reason for the witch to go after any of them.

As I fly across the ground, I have to keep pressing back the fear trying to choke me as I rapidly approach the city where I have made my happy home these years. I can't lose that, I can't lose Darin…

Running is all I think of until I burst through the city gates. The witch's magical signature still pulses beneath my feet, though it's only there if I concentrate.

As I fly past, I can't completely ignore the stares. And while I concede that it is certainly odd to by racing through the city in broad daylight around the lunch hour, I can't be bothered to care. I can deal with any unwanted questions once I know that Darin is safe, that Sima and Nina are safe, that I've been distressing myself over nothing.

This is what keeps my head attached to my shoulders as the city streets seem to lengthen in front of me. Darin is fine, Darin is safe, she has no reason to hurt him. No reason, he's fine, he's all right, he's safe…

I spend so long reciting these words to myself that I almost run right past my own front door. _Our_ front door. I stop in my tracks, skidding so hard on the cobblestones that a tear blooms on the sole of my shoe. The ground is like ice against my foot.

Hand shaking, I grip the door handle and force a smile. He's fine, Darin is fine. Darin is safe. It's all right.

At once, I remember the time. I shouldn't be looking for him here; silly me, he's at work. A hysterical laugh bubbles in my throat at my foolishness. Of course Darin isn't at home. What have I been so afraid of? I'll just go by the smith shop and say hello, since I'm already here.

Yet even as I stand there, convincing myself that I've been a fool and an idiot and just too paranoid for my own good, the witch's magic tickles at the back of my senses.

No, that can't be right. Why would she come here? I shake my head at myself, fingers falling from around the doorknob and swooping up to cover my mouth. I've been ridiculous, of course she's not here…I must be imagining it. That's the proper explanation, yes. I'm imagining it.

If the people of this city did not write me off as a lunatic before, surely they will do so now. Here I am, standing in front of my front door smiling into my palms and shaking my head after tearing through the city like the very hounds of hell were at my heels.

I turn around on my heel, ignoring the cold, damp stone poking through my shoe. Perhaps if I hurry a little, I can join Darin for lunch. Yes that's it! Lunch.

Magic still flickers. My heart slowly rises into my throat. Perhaps I should slip into some other shoes; it is winter after all, and tears in shoe soles are never comfortable this time of year…

Slow as molasses, I turn back to my door, trying to be unsure of why my hand still trembles like a leaf when I lay it upon the knob once more.

A knife of ice in my heart, I grip the knob and push open my door.

* * *

 **Review!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Alright, so this update is hella late but at least it's here now right? I do apologize, life and school and giant research papers came a-calling. But on to Chapter 7 now! The good news is that I have several chapters written in advance. I may be cutting and editing some more, but for the most part it looks like I have most the material for the next seven chapters or so, I think. So steady updates are back for a while, yay! Expect the next chapter in a week, maybe two at the latest.**

 **And of course, thank you as always to wildhorses1492 for your fantastic reviews! Honestly, reviews keep me writing, and I can't appreciate them enough. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 **(Caspian POV)**

No matter the warmth and comfort of the wigwam, Caspian wakes tired and heartsore. His Queen came to his dreams, and she pleaded with him to bring their son home safe. Now with the coming of morning, her words echo in Caspian's ears.

His head pounds with the weight of missing her and needing to see Rilian again. Eustace's snort-like snores don't even bring a fond flicker of a smile to his face, not this morning. With feet that feel so much heavier than they are, Caspian emerges from the wigwam into the cold air. A moment of solitude would be most welcome, and he has some time yet before Eustace and Jill wake. He suspects Rose will be up shortly, but he silently prays for a few minutes longer at least.

For now at least, Caspian's only company is the gentle humming of the marsh and the slight fog still lingering from the night previous. And still the voice of his wife will not leave him be. Caspian's not even sure if he wants it to; any memory of her is precious and dear. There will be no new ones, after all.

With that, Caspian has at once had enough of solitude. Peace and quiet be damned, he doesn't want to have to fight off his sorrow alone. Even just company would be distraction enough.

In a rush, Caspian spins on his heel and reenters the wigwam with that now-familiar lumpish feeling in his throat. How long will it be before he can think of his family without the choking grief?

His preoccupation bodes ill for the sleep of his companions. Caspian's careless footfalls have already woken Jill, if her girlish grumbling is any indication. Cringing, Caspian waits for a probable sleepy scolding from Rose. She's quite the light sleeper, and she is not a favorite of early rising.

Strange, no tongue-lashing comes. Did Rose somehow sleep through his noisy entrance? No matter, Caspian is simply grateful to escape with his dignity intact. Not that he can enjoy the relative quiet (excluding Jill's mutterings and Eustace's snorts); it's time they were on their way.

"We should set out soon," he says, squinting in the meager light. "Pack your things."

Two young voices grouse at the order, but Caspian notices there is one voice missing. Rose must have been exhausted to sleep so soundly. That's not like her at all.

Caspian's brow furrows. She most certainly should have said something by now. Inching his way through the wigwam, Caspian looks for her as best he can with the very poor light. But when he reaches the spot she slept in, the space is empty. No pack, no Rose, no sign that anyone was ever here.

What in the Lion's name…

"Oh," comes the small voice of Jill, cutting through his confusion. "Rose wanted me to tell you she had to go check on something."

Caspian freezes in his boots. Check on something? What could possibly be more important than finding his son? _Check on something?_

Jill babbles on, seemingly oblivious to Caspian's shock and rapidly rising temper. "She said it was important, something about back home. She said you'd know what that means."

Back home? Caspian swallows hard, forcing down his sprouting anger. That could only mean Tanssi Kuun. But what was there to check on, and at a time like this? Surely she took care of things before she left. Surely she left some greater explanation than that.

"She had to check on something?" Caspian repeats slowly, and with a dreadful sort of calm. What something mattered more than Rilian, his stolen son, Narnia's only rightful heir? The last piece of his family?

Now Jill is starting to understand; when she answers, her voice catches at the beginning. "She promised she'd be back, honestly. It seemed really urgent."

Caspian cannot help but think that it most definitely better be urgent and important and, frankly, a matter of life and death, else what kind of treatment is this? Were the children so disagreeable that Rose took off? But she's never done that sort of thing before. No no, it must be urgent, it must be something pressingly, awfully urgent or she never would have left. He must think of it like that, he must. Angry though he is, Caspian cannot bear to question one of his dearest friends now.

Jill seems worried now. The small shuffling noises of her packing have ceased, and the uncomfortable silence stretches on. Well, Eustace mutters some confused words, but Caspian doesn't bother answering. In truth, it barely registers until Jill's been waiting so long for his answer that he must give it now. Perhaps by saying words far more gracious than he feels, this burning ire will lessen.

"Rose must have had some urgent matter indeed," Caspian says slowly. "Did she give any indication as to the time of her return?"

"Would someone tell me what's going on?" mumbles Eustace.

"Hush up, Scrubb!" Jill fires back before turning back to Caspian. "Rose said she'd meet us at the Giant's Bridge in two weeks. What kind of urgent matter do you suppose she's attending to?"

Two weeks? They could reach the Bridge in half that time if travels were speedy, and still days before if they were slowed. Two weeks? What in Aslan's name is she thinking?

Caspian speaks slowly, hiding his fisted hands behind his back. "Prepare to leave. We're going after her."

"She did say she'd be back…" Jill trails off, looking very small and timid as she swallows whatever else she was going to say. No doubt she caught sight of his clenching jaw.

"I do not care what she said. The witch that killed my wife is still on the loose. No matter why Rose left, we're going after her." Caspian's voice shakes unexpectedly, and his fists tremble. He's lost his wife and, for the moment, his son. He refuses to lose one of his closest friends to the same evil. Doesn't she know it's not safe to go anywhere alone anymore?

Caspian can't decide whether he's angry or frightened for her, but his hands shake long after they leave the marshes.

* * *

Caspian is praying to Aslan not for strength or guidance, but rather for patience. Patience, because Jill has been mumbling about feeling beastly after sleeping in her clothes, Eustace is taking every opportunity to poke barbs at her, and now their group is back up to four. Puddleglum, being the loyal and honorable Marshwiggle he was, insisted, of course, on coming.

"Not that I should be any help," he'd said. "But four's always good company for those sorts of arguments that happen on adventures such as this. That way each one has someone to spar with."

Aslan help him, but Caspian thought to refuse the help at first. But the Wiggle was fully sincere, and even seemed excited about the prospect. Now Caspian is quite sure that the enterprise is some sort of lesson in sobering up, but he's not so cynical yet as to believe that's all Puddleglum is hoping for. And until they catch up with Rose, Caspian needn't be left alone to manage two ornery, arguing children.

He's beginning to understand just why Rose was so cross with them. Strange, that only now when he's chasing her down from her foolishness does he realize how easy impatience with those two really is. Puddleglum isn't cheerful company either, though Caspian can bear the dronings of negativity much better than Jill and Eustace's verbal spars.

"Must you argue so loudly?' Caspian grumbles at last as the sun is setting on their first day of the chase. "Quarreling will accomplish nothing."

Here Puddleglum is most happy, if indeed that word could be used to describe a Marshwiggle, to comment on what to expect for the rest of the journey. "It's just as I said, Sire. Sparring of that sort always happens on adventures."

Caspian thanks the Wiggle discreetly, because those very words hush the two children right up (though not before Jill can call Eustace a perfect beast once again).

"Where are we going, Caspian?" Eustace cuts in. "I don't think you mentioned."

"Or maybe he did and you were to busy blustering on to hear."

Lion, they really never stop, do they?

"The city of Telmara," Caspian answers quickly before another spat breaks out and spoils their dinner. "To Rose's home."

"Supposing nothing dreadful happens to her on the road, that is," says Puddleglum. "That sort of thing can happen on these adventures."

Caspian's heart and gut both do strange flips at that, and the air feels suddenly far too cold. "Nothing will happen to her," he replies, reassuring himself more than his gloomy companion. "I have every faith in Rose's capabilities."

His hands shake through dinner nonetheless.

* * *

The trip to Telmara ends up taking a little more than a week. Caspian would have thought they could catch Rose, but now the city looms ahead across the plains and still no sign of her.

"Well, you've got to give her credit for speed," mumbles Eustace.

"Once we get to the city, I will take the three of you to the castle and call a meeting of the council. They may have some answer that Rose has not given," Caspian says, his eyes still fixed ahead.

"How so, Your Majesty?" asks Puddleglum.

"Perhaps the trouble she spoke of had something to do with the witch we hunt."

Caspian has been wondering this past week what could have wrenched Rose so suddenly from his quest, and now he has a tiny suspicion that she fears the witch has some new evil in store for Tanssi Kuun. But naturally, he can't tell his companions that. No matter how much he trusts them, he knows Rose would have his head if he breathed a word of Tanssi Kuun, even now.

But why she didn't wake him and explain herself before leaving? Did she trust him so little, and after many years of friendship?

Caspian does his best not to dwell on thoughts so poisonous, but they still darken his visage as he leads his company through the city gates.

* * *

"In no less than an hour, my Lord."

"It will be done, Sire."

Caspian sends his messenger scurrying away in a right hurry, an impressive feat for one with such rapidly graying hair. Now he turns to his three companions.

"Wait here. Rose may be here in the city, and she may not desire company," he says, not so gently as he could have. But there is only so much gentleness to be had these days.

"Er, but Caspian, mightn't the witch be here?" Eustace calls after him. Puddleglum quickly adds in his vote in the affirmative.

"Even if she is, she will not dare attack in the middle of the city. Wait here until I return," Caspian repeats, already three steps out the door.

He doesn't know what's happened, but he does know that Rose will tell him nothing if the others are there. He's almost sure that only Tanssi Kuun could prompt her to leave his quest with so little warning. Well, no warning. Lion, he really should try not to be so bitter about that. She would not have left without good reason, he knows she wouldn't.

To avoid prying eyes, Caspian dons his largest cloak for his little trip into the city. No need to attract attention, especially as the entire city must know of his presence by now.

Caspian reaches her house in record time, even trying to blend into the crowds. He maintains his discretion up until her door is right in front of him; then he knocks with unforgiving blows of his knuckles. If there is no answer here, he'll go to Darin's smith shop to see if he knows anything.

Lion help him, but when there's no answer at the door Caspian thinks for a moment to tear it down and walk inside anyway. He knocks again, even louder this time. Behind him, a pair of guards clank down the street.

"Rose!" he hollers at the door, banging until it rattles on its hinges. "Rose, open the door." He's greeted with an infuriating silence.

Caspian reminds himself that she is most likely in Tanssi Kuun right now, that he shouldn't be worried or furious because she'll be back soon. She wouldn't have left without good reason.

If only she'd come to him directly, he'd find this disappearing act so much easier to handle. He didn't need this, not now. Perhaps such a thought is selfish, but perhaps it is just. Caspian can't say, and his window of time before the council meeting is rapidly slipping away. He can't stand here banging on her door all afternoon.

On his way back to the castle of his father, Caspian tries not to remember that Rose is almost always back by morning, let alone the afternoon.

* * *

Upon his return, Caspian takes great pains to introduce Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum to the gathered council with all due politeness. He knows it was a bit rude of him to leave them here unattended for an hour, and as his anger faded guilt took its place. And once those introductions are in order, he begins.

"Lords of the Council, I thank you for gathering on such short notice. As you know, I have left Cair Paravel seeking my son. I have reason to believe that the same witch responsible for Narnia's troubles of late may now be near this city."

Shocked murmurs and outraged words fly about like daggers in the council room, Narnian and Telmarine alike. Caspian doesn't miss the wide-eyed look Jill gives him. Eustace whispers some reassuring something to her, and for that Caspian is grateful.

"Bucker up, Pole," Eustace says. "I expect it can't be helped."

"Just so," Puddleglum chimes in. "The business of adventures, you know."

Jill's gaze still darts around like that of a frightened deer, but she nods and sets her chin firm and strong. Caspian will have to thank them both for their maturity later.

"My Lords!" Caspian thunders, at once cursing his lack of patience. "Had she wished to visit some great evil upon this city, you may rest assured she would have visited it already."

The Lords still glance about, clearly unsettled and apprehensive, but they quiet to listen to their king.

"What I require from this honored body," Caspian continues, "is any information you have about the comings and goings since my son's disappearance."

"The city has much traffic, Your Majesty," answers one of the more elderly lords. "It is simply impossible to keep track of every soul that has entered or exited."

Caspian schools his features against anger and impatience. By the Lion, he _knows_ that they won't have a record of every single passerby, but is it so much to ask that they do their best to look back for anything unusual?

"By the accounts of my trusted friends, this witch would not pass unnoticed through a crowd. All I need from you is a summary of any events or persons of note, and nothing more. I am well aware that you cannot document the sneezes of an entire city."

Perhaps Caspian should not have tacked on that last bit, but so help him he is tired and drained and doing his very best to remain a level-headed monarch in spite of all he has lost in the past month. They do not make it easy.

The Lords of the Council sense his ticking patience; he can see it in how they look at him. Wary, controlled, as if they are merely waiting for the signal that he is about to get truly angry. Caspian knows he won't outright crucify them with his words, but he can have a bit of a temper from time to time. Times such as these, for example. But such a display would hardly be productive at the moment, and so he will not have it.

"There have been no unusual travelers of late, Majesty," pipes up a graying Minotaur, his rich voice rumbling throughout the small chamber. "It is I who keep the city records."

This small kernel of cooperation means, at the moment, the world to the embittered Caspian. With a gracious smile and relief for the cooperation in his eyes, Caspian thanks the Minotaur for the information and inquires if there is anything anyone has noticed.

"No matter how trivial it be," he adds, almost desperately at the end.

Silence falls, but thanks be to the Lion it does not last. A Telmarine lord speaks next, brow furrowed as if he doubts the importance of his words.

"Majesty, the only new thing these past days, week even, is that my wife came clamoring to me about the arrival of an old and dear friend."

In his heart, Caspian feels at once that this is significant, in spite of all common sense to the contrary. What harm in an old friend?

"And what does this friend look like?" he asks, keeping his voice measured and even.

"She doesn't say, Sire," says the lord, looking quite surprised that Caspian found this meager morsel important or worth addressing again. "I only know that if I hear of her exquisite green dresses any more, I will sleep in the street rather than live through it again."

Caspian practically jumps out of his skin.

"Green, you say?" he forces himself to reply calmly.

If the lord was puzzled before, he is positively lost now. "Yes, my king," he stutters. "Green."

Hope surges. Perhaps Rilian is not so far away as he thought, perhaps he is within reach even now!

"Tell me all," Caspian demands. Is that his heartbeat roaring in his ears?

"What's so special about green?" Eustace whispers beside him, momentarily distracting the flustered king.

"The witch was wearing a green dress when Rilian saw her, you goose," hisses Jill. "Honestly Scrubb, it's like you don't listen at all."

Caspian tunes them out very deliberately as the lord shrugs, at a loss.

"I know little. But if you wish to speak with her about this, she will come at a moment's notice."

Caspian fights the urge to throw up his hands to the heavens and shout thanks to the Lion for the assistance he is being gifted this day.

"Yes, my lord," he says. "Please do so."

The lord nods and doesn't move from his chair. So Caspian must clarify.

"At once."

The lord starts but rushes to obey, hurrying out of the room with his robes sweeping the floor behind him. The council looks on in confusion at the whole strange scene, and Caspian tries to will away the tightness in his chest.

One step closer. He is one step closer to Rilian.

If only Rose were here to see it.

* * *

 **Now we see Caspian's thoughts on Rose's little escapade...if only he knew what was in store next chapter! *insert evil cackle here***

 **Review, it really does help me update faster! :)**


	9. Chapter 8

**Next chapter, and a day early too! I was so ecstatic after finishing the previous one (it gave me a LOT of grief, guys...) that I got to work on this one right away. I'm really excited for this chapter also, it's a big moment in this story, and that's all I can say without giving anything away!**

 **Thank you as always to wildhorses1492 for reviewing! It's the best part of updating, seeing a review :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **(Rose POV)**

All seems to be normal. All seems to be well. Yet the world suddenly seems to be all a-haze, as if I can't be sure what's real and what's not. Blindly, I grope for the door behind me. Mustn't leave the door open like that, Darin doesn't like the dust of the streets getting in the house too much…

Everything is moving so slowly; why? I step further into the living area. There are the two sitting chairs that Darin and I saved for months to purchase, with cloth spun by Sima herself covering the red cushions. And there to my left is the fireplace, with ashes still sitting inside. The kitchen table, worn around the edges and covered in that matching mahogany tablecloth, sits exactly as I last left it. That was where Darin gave me his blessing to go help Caspian, to go and find Rilian…

Why is my heart still sinking? Why is my stomach still tying itself in knots? There is nothing to fear here.

Yet, as I shuffle along the packed floor toward the room I share with my husband, I can't completely believe it all. It's too perfect, too presentable, too neat, too…too…

I palm open the door to my bedroom.

And I scream.

Shaking hands fly to my face and I muffle my cry into my palms. Tears sear down my cheeks. Apologies stutter across my lips even as my voice fails me, cracking and breaking in the still air.

The scent of death is everywhere here.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sob into my hands as my fingers dig trails into my cheeks. The metallic scent of blood floods my nose when I pull my hands away. Grief, horror, the smell, all of it presses in on me, crushes against my chest until I can't breathe for the pain.

Fingertips stained with the blood from my cheeks, I reach toward him with my mouth open, gasping for breath. Perhaps he is only sleeping...

My fingers land on cold flesh. Fumbling, I grasp at his wrist, desperate for the tiny pulse of life under his skin.

There's nothing, so I press harder against his vein. It's got to be there, it's got to be, she had no reason to do this, she didn't have time, there's no reason -

"Darin?" his name falls from my lips like a prayer, a plea for him to open his eyes and reassure me that it's only a bad dream, that I'm wrong, that she never came here, that there's no reason for me to be crying on the floor next to the bed clutching at his arm for a heartbeat.

Shaking, I rise to my knees and grab his shoulders. "Darin?" I ask again. No answer, so I shake him. I shake him harder when nothing happens.

At once, I have no choice but to understand. He's gone.

No words push at my throat now. My trembling hands still on his shoulders. I release them and lower my husband's body back to the floor as gently as possible. His head starts to fall back, so I catch it with one hand and lower him the rest of the way. I can't think, can't speak, can't fight to prove my senses and my fears wrong anymore. He's gone, cruelly yanked from me, and I was too late to stop it.

My tears sting the cuts my fingernails made in the flesh. As I wince, my eyes fall on two small puncture wounds in his neck. My heart squeezes painfully and I don't want to look at it anymore, but I can't look away. I stare at the wound, stare and stare until my eyes hurt from not blinking.

His eyes are still open.

A sob pushes at my throat, but I swallow it as quickly as it comes. Crying will do nothing. Crying won't bring him back. With newfound steadiness in my hands, I slide his lids closed so he won't have to stare at the ceiling forever. Instead, I stare at him. He's so cold under my hands…he was never cold.

I get the crazy idea that he shouldn't be cold. Though I know it'll do no good, I take the blanket from the bed and wrap it around him, tucking it tightly around his body as if to trap the heat that I know is no longer there. Slowly, I lay beside him, curling myself up against his side. In my head, I know this is doing nothing, but my heart won't let me do anything else. So there I lie, ignoring the muffled sounds of the city's daily business that leak through the walls. I want him to be warm.

* * *

When I wake, the house is dark throughout and my husband still lies beside me, cold and still. The blanket really didn't do anything.

I have to bury him.

This I realize with cold and startling clarity. He shouldn't be laying here on the floor of our bedroom exactly as he fell. He should be put to rest, tucked away where no prying eyes will see him, where no one will disturb him.

Back stiff from my time on the floor, I inch my way up to a kneeling position and try to lift his shoulders. My arms tremble from the effort, but I can do it. Yet when I try to lift the rest of him, my strength gives out and I have to catch him before he drops back to the floor.

Tears prick at my eyes; how can I fail him in this, this one final thing? I can't fail him, I can't leave him here, I can't –

Steely determination sets in. I'm _not_ going to fail him. I am going to carry his body out of the city, I will do it unnoticed, and I will give him a proper burial. It's what he would have done for me, and so much more.

So I lift again, my back screaming in protest. But how can I give up? He never gave up on me. I set my teeth and ignore the pain in every muscle. I'm not letting him stay here like this, and I'm not getting any help either. This is my gift to him. He wouldn't want the whole city in an uproar, and that's exactly what would happen if word got out. And…Aslan help me, I couldn't stand the pity. I couldn't do it, I'm not strong enough for that. But I am strong enough to get him to the woods.

Sweat tickles at my skin, but I finish the job anyway. When I've straightened my legs and stood, my husband's body is in my arms and I take my first step. My legs hold. So I take another. And another. Before I know it, I'm at my front door and listening for any noise outside.

By the grace of Aslan, all is still. I suppose I slept well into the night with him, beside him.

Getting the door open proves almost impossible, but at last the knob turns all the way and I can go back to supporting my husband's back with that hand. A final glance into the streets shows me no soul in sight. I scoot the door closed behind me and make my way through the streets of Telmara. So many times, he walked this way with me on nights like this…

Getting out of the city is almost too easy. I know these streets well from years of sneaking about at night, and I know all the right nooks and crannies to scoot into whenever someone wanders by. I've gone my entire life slipping through unnoticed, and now it's once again serving me well. The only trouble is the extra guards at the city gate.

A flash of anger whips through me, but I choke it back down. That won't help. And besides, I happen upon the gate just as the guards are changing. It takes only a little more skill than usual to slip past and move along the wall until I'm out of sight.

After escaping the city, the trick is getting across the plains. But even this is easily accomplished; I'm determined to give Darin the honor he deserves, and I'm not allowing for any error. So there is none.

Once we're among the trees of the forest, I walk freely and hold him to me tighter than ever before. Understanding dawns; once I bury him, he is truly gone. I haven't even said goodbye.

My chest tightens to the point of pain again, and yet again I ignore it. I can worry with that later. Right now, none of that matters. None of it, not one bit of it, not when my husband is dead and I knew he was in danger and I got there too late to stop it and it should have been _me_ that the witch took, not him and –

I have to stop. Thoughts like that make my legs tremble and the body in my arms suddenly feel a thousand times as heavy. I banish every thought tugging at my mind, every tear of pain ripping at my heart, and let sweet detachment flood through me, distancing me from the reality of death and failure.

Almost before I know it, my feet lead me to Tanssi Kuun's door. Perhaps I should bury him here, next to the place that brought us together, the place he proposed. The memory prods at my mind. Now that I'm here, I let it in.

There he stood, right before the tree as I stand now. I was just about to lift my pendant to the engraving that summer night when he caught my hand in his own and told me to wait, that there was something he'd been meaning to ask me for quite some time. And here I'd stood, tipping my head to the side in confusion even as my heart beat like a bird's wings against my ribs. In my heart, I wondered.

And without any further ceremony, he simply knelt before me and pulled a ring from his pocket. He said little, only that he never wanted a life without me in it and would I marry him. Simple and sweet, and just like him.

When the memory fades into my sorrow, I find that my cheeks are wet and my legs are giving out beneath me. I collapse to the ground, gripping Darin close as I go so he won't fall onto the cold earth too. Pained cries for the man I've lost tear at my throat, ripping past my lips with a ferocity I'd almost forgotten since this afternoon's discovery.

"I'm sorry," I cry into his shoulder, the blanket catching my tears before they taint his skin. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I should have known, I never should have left."

I have to pull myself together. I know I have to, but I can't. Would it have been better if we'd never met, if – no, I can't think like that. He would never want me to think like that.

All I have to do is muster the strength to start digging. That's all. Where is my strength now?

Choking on my sorrow, I wipe my cheeks with my sleeve over and over, until the wool scratches at my tender cheeks. The stinging on the shallow scratches is enough to snap me out of my craze. He wouldn't want this.

Slowly, carefully, I lower his body from my arms to rest on the ground, the blanket shielding him from the worst of it. I take off my cloak and tuck it under his head, taking an extra second to smooth back his hair as I do. It feels as rich through my fingers as it ever has, even if a bit stiff from the cold night air.

My hands leave him in favor of the ground. Almost immediately, my nails break against the hard earth, frozen through with the coming of winter. I steel myself against more tears and try again. At the very least, it will scrape the blood from my fingertips.

It takes a while, but I start to carve out a decent indent in the ground. My fingers ache with cold and strain and it doesn't matter. Wait. Perhaps there's a better way than clawing through the earth.

My eyes lift from my task to the engraving that leads to Tanssi Kuun. After the Great Battle, the vines came and covered everyone we lost, and they became new stars in the sky. So no one is ever truly lost, that's what Bashar said. I don't have to lose Darin to the merciless soil.

A spark of something calm flickers to life in my chest. Standing, I raise my pendant to the tree and open the door. Warm light floods out, welcoming me with open arms and the promise of respite from the world that's taken Darin from me. Tanssi Kuun is a better place for him; after all, it _is_ what brought us together.

I rush to pick up Darin's body from the ground before the door slides closed again. Somehow, he feels just a little bit lighter.

I stride through the door and into Tanssi Kuun, and in that moment I am unspeakably grateful for this world. In the few seconds since deciding to bring Darin here, I can't imagine leaving him anywhere else.

At first, no one is within sight. The faeries spend much of their time in the forests, after all, and sometimes even as far as the mountains. I wasn't expecting them to be here to see me tonight.

Yet, they once again surprise me. Perhaps they can feel my heartache, or perhaps they are not so far away as I think. But no sooner have I begun striding through the wild grassy plains than the faeries swarm around me, ribbons twisting around my body and holding me steady even as I sway on exhausted feet.

They don't ask what happened, nor do they ask what I want to do. No, they simply strengthen me with their ribbons and fly beside me, sending all the comfort they can give. My heart still beats painfully, but with my faeries beside me it's almost bearable.

"The clearing," I whisper. "I want to bury him at the clearing."

"We know, Rose," Bashar whispers at my shoulder. Just hearing her voice eases the throbbing in my soul.

At the clearing, where the grasses retreat and leave softer versions of themselves, I lay down my husband once again, and for the last time. No sooner have I done so than vines race up from the earth and weave themselves over him. Perhaps they will warm him where the blanket couldn't…

The mourning song rises around me and ribbons flow forward to intertwine with the flowering vines. I open the pouch at my side and release the ribbon the faeries gifted to me for my journey. With none of my own, this is the most I can offer him in this ritual.

Lights compact, brighten, raise his body up into the sky. My voice scratches against my throat as I strain to reach the crescendo with all the faeries. A final, lingering note, and then…my Darin is gone. Almost frantically, I search the sky until my eyes cross, searching for him. I'm not supposed to lose him so completely, I have to be able to find him…

There. Just to the right of the Mountain Star, the one that sits over the Northern Mountains. There is Darin, winking back at me from afar. I smile absently; he always loved green. It's fitting that now, that is what he glows.

Were I anywhere else, the questions would begin now, questions of what happened and am I all right and is there anything they can do and shouldn't I sit down. Not here. No, the faeries know better than to harass me with meaningless queries. They wrap ribbons around me and lead me from the clearing into the woods, where the trees shelter us from the breeze.

"Thank you," I whisper. I know they can feel my gratitude, but I had to say it. I had to make sure they know how much it means that now I haven't lost him forever.

"Sleep, Rose," whispers Bashar. "Nothing will disturb you."

No sooner has she finished her words than I sink to the ground gratefully. Vaguely, I feel ribbons catch me and deposit me into a hammock before I slip away into sleep.

* * *

When I wake, it's still night. Stars greet my gaze.

There he is, directly above me, peeking through the pine canopy. Glowing a deep and rich green, almost smiling at me. A great and painful weight surges to life once more in my heart, in my bones. There is no crevice of me untouched.

"Rose."

The clawing, clenching sorrow subsides enough to let me breathe at the sound of Bashar's voice. Has she sat here with me this whole time?

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask. My voice cracks, hoarse with disuse and the stickiness of grief.

"Almost two days. We helped you sleep the best we could," she murmurs, sending a ribbon to wrap around my shoulders almost as if by instinct.

We sit there silently, together on the hammock, for a long while. So long that the moon begins to peek above the horizon. I try not to will it away, the new light that may wash out the star that remains of my Darin, but even so I find myself wishing that it would be night forever, that I didn't have to see that glowing orb rising in the sky and making it harder to see him.

Nevertheless, I know there is still something I have to do. Grief can only have its way for so long.

"I have to go back," I whisper into the dawn. Bashar's ribbon warms my upper body, bathing me in a pale blue light. "I promised Caspian I would help him find his son."

"Then go you must," Bashar replies. I feel how heavy her heart is. As heavy as mine, for I know she and all the others can feel my pain as if it were their own. A blessing and curse, I thought so long ago. I feel her fear also, her fear of losing me. I find myself fearing the same.

"There's more," I hear myself say. "Darin's pendant - it's gone."

Bashar's fear spikes, sending chills down my spine. When she answers, it is with one shaky syllable only. "Gone?"

"I will return, I promise," comes my trembling whisper. "But now I must find the witch more urgently than ever."

Bashar nods, though the dread I sense in her doesn't retreat. "What will you tell him?"

My reply is instant and painful. "Nothing," I say quickly. "Nothing, because he does not need to know."

Silently, Bashar prompts me. She knows there is more, and I admit it to her freely in the privacy of my own heart. I cannot speak the words aloud of what has happened, and so I could not tell Caspian even if I wished to.

With a cracking heart, I force myself to stand. My strength comes from Bashar's ribbon around me still. The warmth reminds me what I must do. Yet, I am loath to leave him. How can I go back to Narnia when there will be no Darin in the night sky to remind me of happier times?

"We will take care of him. He will never want for company." Bashar's words start a new stinging in my eyes, and I can't seem to blink it away.

I don't need to thank her aloud, I know she can feel my gratitude tenfold, but I whisper my thanks anyway. Bashar just smiles a sad, sad smile as she leads me back to the clearing in the wild grasses, where the others wait. Have they too kept a silent vigil while I mourned in sleep?

"I promise, I'll return," I choke out, very nearly overwhelmed at the comfort they send to me. "I will not leave you defenseless."

Now it is not only Bashar's ribbon, but one from every faerie encircling me, flooding my dim world with light and warmth and, amazingly, a faint stirring of hope. I know it won't last long, but I grasp on to that hope for as long as I can. I will need every shred of it I can find to continue on.

Bashar speaks for them all when she sends me on my way.

"Go now, Rose, and come back when Caspian's son is returned to him. We will wait for you."

* * *

 **Okay, before you guys freak out...well, I actually can't defend myself, so go right ahead. I've had this planned almost since Moonrose's beginnings. Actually, that doesn't help, does it? I'm sorry, it hurts, I know...**

 **Review if you've got a sec, even if it's just curses :P**


	10. Chapter 9

**This is super late, I know! I'm sorry I kept you guys hanging like that after the last chapter. This has been my busiest semester yet, I'm doing the best I can. :/ Just two weeks of this disastrous excuse of a semester left and then updates will be a lot steadier!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 **(Caspian POV)**

The lord's wife did indeed have helpful information; from what Caspian can tell, the witch has indeed passed through here, and recently. Moreover, she'd been here for years. If Lady Misia was to be believed, her old friend had been living in Telmara almost as long as Rosamar, though he didn't mention that to the poor distressed soul. Perhaps it was even this witch who wrote him that letter about Rose, and who wrote the letter to his former Lord Regent that resulted in Rose's imprisonment.

If ever he needed proof she was the same snake as the one that threatened Tanssi Kuun, he has it now. At first, he thinks to tell Rose the news, but he remembers with an icy jolt that she's not here. That she left.

Over dinner, Caspian gets the wild idea that Rose might come back tonight. It's completely unfounded, but surely she can't stay away forever. Perhaps she saw him enter the city and she'll come and explain herself.

She won't, but pretending she will calms him.

Caspian stays up for hours waiting for her regardless. First, he keep himself awake by attending to paperwork in his old study. Technically, this is the council's responsibility, but he needs something to keep him from falling asleep and the lords were more than pleased to let him pitch in. And when the stack of paperwork is worked through, Caspian writes a letter to Trumpkin explaining all that has happened so far. He won't be here to receive a reply, but it's something else to do.

The moon is just starting to sink in the sky when Caspian forces himself to accept that Rose won't be returning to the castle tonight. He can only go to bed and hope to find her in the morning. Morning comes, and Caspian sends out several guards to look for her. Caspian reminds himself that it's only been a day since he's arrived in the city and that he can't expect to root her out so soon, especially if she isn't keen on being found. Yet the first pangs of angry anxiety start to prick at his mind.

Lunch hour comes, and no word from the guards. To busy himself, Caspian takes Jill and Eustace out to the training grounds and teaches them swordplay. Eustace remembers much from his days on the _Dawn Treader_ , but Jill has clearly never held anything bigger than a kitchen knife before, and even that is dubious. When she makes little progress, Caspian shifts to archery. The methodical thump of the arrows against the target helps calm his rising impatience.

Evening comes. As before, no sign of her. The guards apologize profusely and say what Caspian already knows - no answer at the door. Caspian tries to remain patient, he truly does, but he's tempted to leave Telmara without her. His son may not have these days left to wile away. A second pang of concern joins the morning's troubled thoughts when the guards say Darin's blacksmith shop is closed. No answer at the door, and no sign of Darin either. Caspian sends the guards away with a heavy heart. Something is definitely amiss, and now it's hard to be so angry with Rose for leaving so suddenly. Does she know what's happened? Is something keeping her away? Is it Tanssi Kuun?

Caspian spends a restless night pacing his room, trying not to worry and utterly failing. She did promise to meet them at the Giant's Bridge, and they'll surely be late if they don't leave tomorrow. But he's not sure if he can leave without knowing what's happened to her.

* * *

"Perhaps we can look for her, just once more before we leave?" Jill suggests over breakfast.

Caspian is quite sure that if the city guards couldn't find anything, the four of them won't either.

"I think the guards covered it all, Pole." Eustace seems to agree with Caspian's unspoken sentiment, and it's only a matter of time before Puddleglum points out the futility of the gesture.

"Assuming she's still in the city," comes the mournful offering. "And assuming she wasn't killed on the road. That sort of thing happens on adventures."

Caspian kneads his forehead with his thumb and tries to quell the pinch of dread in his stomach. "I will go to her home," he says, "the guards won't have gone inside." At the very least, perhaps he'll find Darin - he'll know for sure if Rose is in Tanssi Kuun.

* * *

Caspian leaves the moment breakfast is over. The children were determined to be useful, so he sent them to the blacksmith shop once more with Puddleglum to look after them. The Marshwiggle may be a long-faced fellow, but Caspian trusts his capabilities. He knows they won't find anything, but it gives them something to do.

The walk to Rose's home is far too short. Caspian tells himself he'll find a note inside, something to prove she's alright, but he's been worried lately and he's afraid it has merit, especially in times such as these. He's lost his wife and, for now, his son; what would keep Rosamar safe?

Before very long at all, he's at her door. The bustlings of a city awoken hours ago provide the veneer of normality. In other times, the noise and life would comfort him; now, it grates at his patience. Selfishly, he wants this to be a private thing, visiting Rose's house again.

He ignores his pride and knocks. No answer. Perhaps Darin is in Tanssi Kuun with her? Caspian knocks again, louder this time. The wood is rough against the side of his fist. "Rose?" he calls. "Darin?"

Nothing. They must both be gone, taking care of something that she couldn't tell him about. But concern still gnaws at his insides, so Caspian swallows his manners and tries the doorknob. Open.

First glance shows him an empty house. And so he enters, barely caring that Rose would be quite angry at him striding in like this if she found out. But she's missing and so he's not completely unjustified, is he?

Caspian searches the entire house from wall to wall. And just as it's been for the past day, there is nothing. No sign of Rose, no sign of anyone. Shouldn't at least a pot be out of place? He remembers how she'd harp on Darin for leaving clean dishes lying around.

The only place Caspian hesitates to search is the bedroom. It feels too intimate, too intrusive. But something feels odd, out of place, as he stands in the doorway. A strange smell. He steps inside, freezes. The sheets are half off the bed and there's no blanket. The rug beside the bed is creased. But oh, it's worse than a small case of not making the bed. The smell. Even the cold cannot hide that smell, and Caspian knows it too well.

Death.

He's choking on nothing, vision blurred from shaking his head too quickly. He should never have let her leave alone.

The floor is hard and cold under his knees. How could this have happened? His last true friend, his closest friend, now taken from him too? What cruel world is this, to take all he loves most exactly when he cannot lose it?

Caspian can't be sure what he does for a good while after that, but when his vision clears Rose's wall is dented and cracked and his hands are bloody. His throat stings, like he's been screaming himself hoarse for hours on end. But no one's come knocking at the door, so perhaps he didn't. It doesn't matter, not really; he just has to pull himself together to go find his son. To find the witch, and sever her miserable serpent's head from her neck.

* * *

Night's fallen and Caspian is late for dinner.

"Why there you are, Cas, we - " Eustace stops at once when Caspian glances over at him.

"What's happened?" Jill's voice cuts through the air.

Roast pheasant. Caspian wants nothing to do with one of favorite dishes. Just the smell makes his stomach turn.

He can't quite answer Jill. The words bubble up his throat, but his tongue can't force them out. He'll tell them later. Later, when he's remembered how to properly speak.

Caspian makes some vague motion that he's going upstairs and to go on eating without him and leaves the dining hall. As the doors close behind him he hears Jill asking something, too softly to be meant for his ears. Puddleglum is the one to reply, with something about "can't be helped, I imagine" and "best leave His Majesty be." He'll have to thank the Marshwiggle in the morning.

But for now, the only thing he wants to do is go to his room and sort himself out well enough to continue on in the morning. Perhaps he should have mentioned that...he can send someone to tell them, when his words are returned to him.

They don't come back until the sky lightens again. Caspian's hands are well awake, and they take to pulverizing every mirror he sees. The thin scabs left from this morning's revelation break open and leave red smears on the glass shards. It's a wonder no one comes to see what all the noise is. Then again, they probably know better by now, even in Telmara.

But when the sun finally starts to lighten the sky, only numbness remains. It almost feels as if the past months happened to someone else and he's somehow stepped into a stranger's shoes. Odd, but it'll help him finish the quest. He lets this numb feeling fester as he exits his room and goes to rouse his companions. With any hope, they'll be up already.

As it turns out, they are not. Caspian goes to their rooms himself and wakes them with merciless knocks on the door. He strides inside and tries to deliver a booming good morning, but it comes out more defeated than anything. Still, it's loud enough to do the job.

"We're up, alright!" hollers Eustace from under the sheets, flailing about on the floor as he tries to disentangle himself. "Sod off, won't you!"

For her part, Jill only lets out one girlish shriek at Caspian's sudden entrance before dragging herself from bed. "Be down in a moment," she says through a yawn.

A moment turns out to be almost a quarter hour, but Caspian refrains from hurrying them. It gives him more time to pull himself together and find a way to either avoid the subject or spit it out. He finds he has little preference for which, only that they get on the road soon. Caspian has no care to see this city again.

His companions appear in the dining room just as he's swearing to never set eyes on this place as long as he lives. Everything here reminds him of Rose, and now even breakfast seems too long a venture to stay.

"Good morning." Jill's voice floats into his ears, and again Caspian feels as though he's in someone else's body.

"Good morning," he replies, quickly hiding his hands behind his back. A glance down showed him blood on his knuckles again, and he doesn't want any more questions than there'll be already.

"Cas, everything alright?"

He's beginning to agree with Rose's distaste for questions. Perhaps that's why she left, so she wouldn't have to -

Lion, he can't think about that.

Caspian clears his throat and mumbles something about the importance of eating breakfast.

"Not to be rude, Your Majesty, but shouldn't you be eating too? Best to keep up strength for these adventures, though we'll all be dead on the side of the road by tomorrow. Giants aren't terribly friendly, and might well mistake us for their next meal." Good old Puggleglum, always looking on the down side of things. Oddly, it doesn't annoy him as much as it should. If anything, the morbidity suits his mood.

"Finish up, we leave within the quarter hour."

"Shouldn't you eat something?" Jill calls after him. Caspian barely hesitates as he exits the room, saying something about not being hungry and getting their things together.

It's something beyond relief when they finally leave half an hour later.

* * *

"And we couldn't use horses why?"

"Stop whining, Pole."

"At it again, I see," chimes in Puddleglum, rubbing his hands together with something akin to glee.

Caspian, on the other hand, rubs circles into his brow with the hand not balancing his pack. They've only just gotten outside of the city, and already Jill and Eustace are at it again. He explains the lack of wisdom in taking horses into Giant country, especially so close as they'll be venturing to Harfang. It quiets Jill down, but Eustace gets curious about Harfang and starts asking what it is. Thankfully, Puddleglum again steps in before Caspian has to open his mouth.

"Some terrible place, I shouldn't wonder. Giants aren't a friendly sort. They'd as soon squash us into jelly as look at us, or perhaps bludgeon us with boulders. You never know, on these sorts of adventures."

Jill sounds positively sour as she retorts, "Why must you always be such a wet blanket, Puddleglum? I think it's not been half as bad as you say so far."

"That's the spirit, Pole, keep up your cheer. Just so, though I expect it won't last long." Somehow, Puddleglum seems positively joyous - as joyous as a Marshwiggle can be, that is - at dispensing more gloomy rantings.

"Oh stop it, Puddleglum. Honestly, it's as if - "

Caspian doesn't hear the rest. He sees a figure there across the plain, emerging from the forest. Something inside his chest twists, and he can't get air past his lips. That looks like...but no, it can't be.

"Rose? Rose!" What starts as a disbelieving whisper jolts into a shout that scrapes at his throat and leaves him hoarse. He races over the frozen ground, half sure he'll see it's not her and he'll be back to misery and missing his last friend left. But the figure lifts her head as he approaches. Lion, he must be imagining it, but his heart twists at the familiar face. But the house...

"Rose!"

He must look crazed, mad as a loon, but he races toward her anyway, toward the figure that looks like Rose and might be Rose and Lion, might it be? She looks more and more like the friend he's so sure he's lost. Perhaps the late morning sun is playing tricks, or perhaps there's no one there at all and his mind is making up Rose's face. Surely, if it really was Rose she'd be running to him too, wouldn't she? She wouldn't lift her head to meet his frantic gaze only to drop her face toward the ground once more and plod along like it was a useless enterprise. She'd be reassuring him, wouldn't she? She'd be shouting that she was alright, wouldn't she?

When at last he reaches her, this strange figure wearing the face of his closest friend, he's surer than ever he must be imagining the whole thing. For surely this can't be Rose, not the Rose he knows. This woman wears the face of unspeakable grief, the light gone from her eyes and the fire gone from her step. This can't be Rose, not unless...

Oh, Lion. Caspian skids to a stop and lays his hands on her shoulders, the last of the pieces clicking into place. Darin. This is Rose, because only one thing could have happened to make her like this. It was Darin the snake took, not Rose.

"Rose?" he whispers one more time. The stabbing chill that shoots down his spine all the way into his boots has nothing to do with the cold morning. "Are you alright?" he tries. A stupid question, but he has to hear that she'll make it, that she'll be alright.

"The Giant's Bridge?"

It takes him a while to understand what she means, but when he does he's left in awe. Such pain, and still her thought is the quest?

"We were worried," he says. Her shoulders tremble under his hands.

Dimly, Caspian realizes Eustace, Jill, and Puddleglum have caught up and are now halting only a few feet away with quizzical expressions on their faces. Yet their arrival is not lost on Rose; in an instant, she straightens and meets his gaze with a fierceness that actually makes him stumble back a step, shocked at the sudden change in her. She's somehow tucked all her grief away, hidden except in the weight that now haunts her gaze.

"We shouldn't waste time." And with nothing more than those four words, Rose steps away from him and doesn't look back.

* * *

Jill turns out to be the most sensible one when it comes to this new and colder Rose. The young girl starts chattering on about the most inane little things, from hair ties to peppermints to some ridiculous school called Experiment House. Caspian fully expected Rose to shut down the jabbering, but she surprised him - she welcomed it. Why in the name of the Lion she would, he has no idea. But in the end, it eases the burden behind her eyes, and so he's more grateful than he's yet been that Aslan sent the two children. They may not know what's going on or what happened (not that they haven't asked, but Caspian refuses to tell them) but they're the most calming influence on Rose at the moment, more so than even Caspian himself. If anything, Rose gets worse when Caspian tries to break past the strange wall that's gone up between them. He doesn't like it, yet he lets her be. If he can't be of any help, at least those two children can.

For his part, Eustace takes up a different strategy. Caspian's young friend instead chooses to reminisce of their voyage east. At first, Caspian is dubious, but he soon grows happy with the memories and the cloud over his mind eases too. Puddleglum takes it upon himself to point out the dangers of the road every now and then, sometimes supplementing with stories he's heard of Giants. A rather brainless lot, he correctly names them, but dangerous enough in some breeds to warrant caution.

Their day ends with them rapidly approaching Giant territory. They'll probably be in Ettinsmoor within a few days, but for now they can rest relatively safe. As safe as anyone can be with the witch on the loose, that is. In spite of this, Caspian still isn't quite sure about lighting a fire, so dinner that night becomes bread and smoked meat. Rose doesn't touch a thing and the haunted look comes back into her eyes as the light fades over the horizon. Caspian bites back his questions; Eustace and Jill are still awake. Perhaps he can speak with her on the night watch. He's not surprised when she volunteers for the first shift. Nor does he argue; he merely says he'll take it after her and sends Jill and Eustace to bed.

When the time for his watch comes around, Caspian wakes with relative ease. But at soon as he rises and starts over toward Rose's seated figure, she orders him away.

"Go back to sleep, Caspian," she says without turning around. "You need your rest."

"Rose – "

She cuts him off before he can even finish her name. "I'm not asking."

Right now, Caspian wishes he could see with the heart as she could. He should've asked the faeries to teach him, but somehow in all those years he never thought of it. He wishes he'd made the time.

"I know you didn't sleep last night," Rose says, a little softer than before. "Until morning."

Caspian forces himself to turn around and go back to bed. Well, he tries. But instead of sleeping as Rose has practically ordered him to do, he can only lay there and pretend as the night wears on.

* * *

 **Well, I think things are suitably painful. I promise I don't actually like doing this to them, it just happens because the story is actually** **the boss, I'm just a robot monkey typing this up.**

 **Review!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Not too late this time. Updating is now apparently a thing that happens while I'm procrastinating on my thesis. Yay me!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **(Rose POV)**

I spend my night in solitude. Caspian was wise to listen to me, to let me take the rest of the watch. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't.

I suppose I should feel lucky that I stumbled across Caspian and company as they were leaving the city. I did resolve to help find Rilian, and I wasn't about to let one loss stop me from doing that. By the Lion, I needed the distraction. But when the loss is so close to home, and I have no words to explain what's happened, it's easy to regret my decision to rejoin them.

If there was one thing the faeries reminded me of in the day and a half I spent there, it was that I never go back on my word. I swore to protect them, and now I've sworn to myself to help Caspian, to try and mend a little of the gaping wound the witch left in his life. And as if that were not enough, I now have to protect Tanssi Kuun once again – even if I wanted to stay behind in that world, I couldn't. Darin's pendant was missing from his body, and my only guess is that the witch has it now. Once she's finished with Narnia, I have no doubt Tanssi Kuun will be next.

I should not feel so angry as I do.

I could never hate Caspian, one of my oldest friends, but I can't shake the feeling that none of this would've happened if I hadn't gone to him and left Darin alone in the city. I could have been there to stop the snake, to sense it before it arrived. But I know how capable Darin is of looking after himself. It must've come when he was sleeping.

Lion, if I hadn't gone exploring that night in the marshes, I may not have known until I returned home after the quest.

I mustn't blame the quest for this. Yet, I only have to repeat this because I know that, in however small a part, I can't help but do so.

I know perhaps I shouldn't have left with only a message delivered by Jill, that now Caspian is worried about what happened. He looked like a ghost when he ran up to me. I know I shouldn't have been so short with Jill and Eustace, even though the addition of Puddleglum renews my distaste for company. I should be sorry for all of these things.

I'm barely sorry at all.

All I'm sure of is that they can't know. I'm not ready for them to know, not ready for the pity and the apologies and condolences. More than anything, I'm not ready for Caspian's guilt. I know he would blame himself if he knew, not just the quest as I do. For Caspian, the quest is his doing and hence the loss of my husband would be his doing by extension.

Aslan help me, I almost decide to tell Caspian anyway. I don't want to lie to him.

But two things make the lie better than the truth. First, the quest. He's only trying to save his son, and I'd do the same in his shoes. He can't afford the distraction. And second, my own pain. I have always preferred to deal with these things on my own. This time, no matter what I owe him, is no different.

By the time morning breaks across the sky, I've composed myself enough to get through another day. The one good thing thus far is Jill; somehow, her stories of this England she comes from distract me from my grief and confusion. I didn't like her or Eustace before, but now I don't think the quest could go on without them. Were it not for Jill distracting me and Eustace distracting Caspian, I have a feeling I'd be at his throat by now, yelling horrible things and blaming him for all of it just to fill the air with words. And that's where Puddleglum comes in: he has plenty of words to say, though none of them are particularly cheerful.

Caspian, predictably, is the first to rise. I don't miss the bags under his eyes when he looks over at me. He must not have slept after trying to take the watch. I wish I could be sorrier than I am.

For a moment, it looks as though he might ask me what happened, since Jill and Eustace are still fast asleep, but at the last second he turns away. He was wise to change his mind.

I take the task of waking the two children and the Marshwiggle without a word, leaving Caspian to get out breakfast. Well, breakfast for the four of them. I still have no appetite to speak of.

"Morning already?" grumbles Jill as my jostling brings her back from the world of sleep.

Her slight grumpiness coaxes the smallest of smiles to my lips, and I continue on to Eustace. His snores rumble on, as they did for most of the night. He wakes with a louder snort than the rest, and it keeps my smile on my face for just a second longer.

Caspian offers me breakfast as the Jill and Eustace get themselves coherent, but I refuse without looking at him. I reach out with my heart and almost wince at his blaring concern, but I cover it up in time. I'm just not hungry, and that's my business and he should respect that.

"You should keep up your strength," he murmurs just before Jill and Eustace walk up.

My words are so much colder than they should be. "My strength is fine."

I pretend not to notice how easily he sees through the lie, but I'm grateful when he doesn't press me.

While the four of them eat, I busy myself with packing up the supplies. It will get us on the way faster, and it gives me more of an excuse to keep my distance. Distance will be best, for a while at least.

Once they finish, we continue east and north. It's a slow journey with just our feet over the roughening terrain, but Jill tells me stories again and Eustace keeps Caspian occupied. Puddleglum surprises me with stories of his own, though I've yet to hear more bleak tales. Nearly all of them disavow too much cheerfulness in favor of a more grounded disposition, as Puddleglum calls it. Still, Jill and Eustace jump in to give his tales happier endings and the whole thing keeps me happily distracted.

With the company now so pleasing, the journey seems a bit easier than it did when it began. The day passes full of tales and stories, miraculously without much of the children's usual arguing. Oh Jill offers up the occasional prim snub and Eustace is quick to follow with his barbs, but they keep a surprisingly good handle on themselves. When we stop for the night and Caspian digs out supper from the packs, I thank them quietly for just that.

"It's nothing," Eustace says, waving off my gratitude too easily. "Really, Pole's just been less difficult lately."

"Don't start now, Scrubb, not just before dinner. It's bad taste." Jill's retort comes as easily as ever, though perhaps with a little less venom than usual. I smile regardless. It's good, somehow, to be with these two quarreling troublemakers. It's good to forget.

But after a dinner where the children and Puddleglum do nearly all of the talking, save perhaps ten syllables or so, forgetting isn't nearly so easy. Night brings memories of Tanssi Kuun, and with them a sharp pain beneath my breastbone for the star I ache to see above me. But no, that's not in this world. This world is the one that took him from me.

No sooner have I turned my face away from the night sky than Caspian approaches, boots harsh on the rocky ground. I prepare to send him away again. He has no right to my pain, and I know well that I won't be able to hide it easily tonight. I'm missing my star far too much.

"You should rest."

"As should you." The exchange chills me as effectively as the wintery air. I know I owe him the truth, but must I owe it now? Can't it wait, at least until the quest is over and I can tend my grief in private? Didn't I give him the same, when Lilli was snatched away?

Caspian sits beside me just as I part my lips to order him away again. I'm here to help him find Rilian, and nothing more.

"Rose – "

"Nothing's changed in a day. Go to bed."

To my surprise, he doesn't argue.

* * *

Morning comes much the same as before. Silence, breakfast, packing, walking across endless land, stories to pass the time. The children seem to have a wealth of tales to tell, but I worry they'll run out sooner than we can come up with other things to say. Dinner, a night watch where I refuse Caspian's company once again. The pattern only breaks the next day, when Caspian tells us we've finally crossed into Giant territory and to be especially cautious now.

Caspian even warns that we'll likely run into giants today and not to be too loud. I listen just enough to take heed, but in truth I care very little about giants. They're known for being rather stupid by Caspian's own stories, never minding Puddleglum's notions of hungry giants squashing us to jelly. All we've got to do is slip past quietly.

Sure enough, by noon we come to a row of towering boulders. At first glance, they seem to be just that – boulders with odd markings here and there. But Caspian tenses at once and hushes our storytelling before we get too close.

"Don't run," Caspian whispers. "They'd catch us in a moment."

And so the five of us walk on steadily, hardly daring to breathe. It'd be so much better to go around these giants, but behind them is a gorge with no bridge across, and if we swung to the south to avoid them we'd go much too far out of the way. There's nothing else to do but pass in front of them and hope they're not paying attention.

At first, it seems to work. The Giants lean against the top of the gorge as casually as you please, completely unconcerned with our little group walking in front of them. Jill clutches my hand when one of them turns its head, but even that one doesn't seem to see us. I don't pull my hand away as I would have days ago. If Jill needs to crush my hand to keep herself from shrieking, so be it.

The moment I resign myself to having only one working hand, our cautious march stutters to a frantic halt. Something large and heavy zooms past overhead and lands mere yards away, landing with a crash that sends the children scrambling.

"Were they aiming for us?" yelps Eustace.

Caspian shakes his head. "It's a game of cock-shies. They play it many a fine morning. We'd be much safer if they were aiming at us, unfortunately." Whatever he was going to say next is forgotten as another boulder crashes mere paces ahead.

"They're terrible shots," I whisper to Jill as she grips my hand even tighter than before.

"All the likelier they'll hit us anyway," Puddleglum adds. "And even supposing they don't, there'll be a good deal more of them on down the way. Hordes, that's the way of things."

The Marshwiggle thankfully hushes up after that, but it's an awful trek. As Puddleglum predicted, the line doesn't seem to end. On and on, an eternal stretch of rumbling, ugly Giants that come far too close to hitting our little party many a time.

By some miracle of Aslan, we continue on through and escape both the flying boulders and the notice of the giants. About half an hour in, however, things take a turn for the worse. An argument breaks out between the stone beasts, and then it's even more noise than before. Two of them start hollering at each other in words of at least twenty syllables, loud enough to rattle my teeth in my skull. The poor children – it shakes them down to the bone, and Jill turns three shades greyer.

To make matters worse, the giants get out great stone hammers and start going at each other with those too. It's deafening, and the hammers have a way of bouncing off the intended target and rebounding into the one doing the hitting. It doesn't take long for the yelling and hammering to give way to such blubbering as I've never heard before. The giants swing at each other, get hit themselves, cry, and try the whole thing over again. Not the brightest beasts.

Soon enough, the whole lot of them are dropping into the gorge and sobbing like the great babies they are. This helps Jill a good deal, since those awful faces aren't visible above the gorge. There's only the loud sobbing to contend with, and that quickly becomes less concerning and more pitiful.

"Why, they're nothing but big babies," Jill says when a good half mile is between us and the giants. "Boo-hooing like that."

"So much the better," I reply. "It makes our journey easier."

And so said journey continues. My breath clouds in front of me, and I wish I'd brought thicker clothes. But in light of everything else I was doing, I suppose it couldn't be helped.

"Jill, would you tell me more about England?" I ask. Just thinking of wandering around the cold reminds me of slipping through the night with my husband in my arms, and I can't be thinking of anything like that without the cover of night.

Jill, bless her, agrees straightaway. This time she tells me about her school, which she calls Experiment House. It sounds perfectly awful, but it's still a distraction and for that I'm grateful. Caspian rides a little closer as Jill tells the tale of Them, the ten or fifteen children who get their fun torturing the rest of the students. According to Jill, Experiment House is most useful for teaching one how to get away rather than anything more traditional like math or reading or languages. In a way, it reminds me of Beruna before Caspian took the throne.

"That's how we got here, actually," says Jill. "I was hiding from Them behind he gym, and Scrubb bumbled into me and told me about Narnia and Aslan and Magic."

Well, that's something I would never do. I only brought friends to Tanssi Kuun in its most dire need; I didn't go around telling it to anyone who looked like they could use a pick-me-up. Yet, I can't fault Eustace for doing so. I'm growing glad of Jill's presence.

"Just like that?" I ask anyway, just to keep the conversation going.

"After a peppermint, yes."

And from there, it's not too difficult to get another tale of the eccentricities of Experiment House. The more I hear, the more starkly it reminds me of growing up in Beruna. While I was fortunate enough to not have the most horrid teachers in the land, the other children were another matter entirely. Looking back, I'm sure they could have been worse, but it did not feel like it at the time.

The day's travels end with us still in Giant territory, though closer to the Giant Bridge than before. It's something, at least.

Unfortunately, this means that dinner is once again an issue. I'm still not hungry, but I know that if I refuse again Caspian may ask if I'm all right again. As little as I care about food, I want to avoid the questions most of all. I don't want to get angry with him again, not when it's almost too easy and not when I know, logically, that I shouldn't.

Predictably, this is exactly what happens in spite of my best efforts to appease him. I accept the offered meat and bread and nibble away, but still Caspian chooses to ask, yet again, when it's time for the watch.

"I can take a watch," Eustace quickly interjects when I stiffen at Caspian's approach. This distracts Caspian long enough for me to slip over to Jill and start up a quiet conversation on the pretense of asking thanking her for not arguing quite so much with Eustace lately.

"We're good friends, but he can be a sod," she explains with a shrug of her young shoulders. "Someone's got to remind him every once in a while."

I'm liking Jill more and more each time I talk with her now. And yet my momentary good mood is ruined once again when Caspian doesn't leave well enough alone. Can't he understand that asking me only makes it worse? That if I _wanted_ to divulge anything, I'd have done so already? Or does he simply not care?

I do my best to stuff those poisonous thoughts as I deflect Caspian's concern for what feels like the tenth time. He's only trying to get to his son, trying to get a piece of his family back…

At least he _has_ a piece left.

"You should rest," he's saying now, moments after ignoring my silent warning to leave me be.

"As should you," I answer, uncaring that Eustace is still within earshot. "I like the night watch, and I'm going to take it."

Hurt flashes in his brown eyes, and then something strangely akin to anger, yet not anger entirely. Anger? What right does he have to be angry with me? I've lost everything trying to help _him_ and he's angry with _me_?

"You and I both know you can't continue on like this, Rose," Caspian murmurs, a warning of his own buried in his tone. I don't hesitate to ignore it.

"I will continue on as I see fit, Your Majesty, and I would thank you to stay out of my business."

Aslan help me, I don't think I've ever spoken to him so coldly before. I regret it instantly, but the words for an apology won't come. I can only seem to look away and stare at the frosted ground, silently wishing I hadn't sounded so callous.

My words cut him deeper than I intended. Certainly, the use of his formal title, one I've not used in years, is what seals the deal. I feel the sudden ache in his heart as clearly as if it were in my own, and yet I still can't muster the will to apologize, to take back the words. They will keep him at a distance, and that is what I need. I can't keep looking him in the eye and seeing his concern. I'm not the one he should be asking after.

This too I tell him, through teeth gritted in sorrow and guilt. That's enough to push him away for the night. He walks away without another word, but even when he lies down I can't ignore his hurt and confusion, blaring as loud as any shout. It makes my own heart spiral too.

I don't want to keep hurting him, I truly don't, but when he keeps pressing and poking and prodding my ugly words fly out before I can stop them and he's just persistent enough, impatient enough, that I can't force out an apology when I'm done, no matter how much I wish I could. Perhaps I'll try in the morning. Yes, I should. I can't keep snapping at him like this, nor can I keep ignoring him all day.

I spend another lonely night staring up at the Narnian stars and trying to keep the weight of it all from crushing what remains of my sanity. Just after the moon reaches its zenith, Eustace's snores break off and Caspian's whisper breaks the still calm of the night. So he's trying to use the boy to get me off the watch. Does he think I can't hear them? When Eustace's feet pad over toward me, I just clutch my borrowed cloak tighter around my body.

"I can take the watch until morning," whispers the blond boy, as cautiously as if he were addressing a wild animal. In some ways, I suppose I am a bit wild now.

"Thank you," I answer with surprising control. "But no. Go back to bed, Eustace. I'll be fine."

If only I could believe those words as easily as I say them.

* * *

 **Do review, it's nice to know if someone's actually reading this :)**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone! I'm sorry this chapter took a little longer, I've been in bed sick as I don't even know what. Speaking of, the last sections of this chapter were written under the influence of cold meds and whatever I've come down with, so if it's a little off from usual I apologize. I've edited it as best I can. :P**

 **And thank you so much to wldhorses1492 for the best review I've yet gotten for the last chapter! It meant the world :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **(Caspian POV)**

The next days, they continue on toward the Giant Bridge without much trouble. Three days into Ettinsmoor, Caspian decides it wise to start hunting fowl so the salted meat doesn't run out, and it slows them down a bit. Impatience bites at Caspian's heels, but with the impending clouds promising snow, he knows they'll need to save as much meat as they can. Little grows in the snow, and hunting will be scarce once it hits.

Caspian stops trying to reach Rose. Every night for a week he tried to take the watch, or at least keep silent vigil beside her. And each time, she rebuffed him. Never so harshly as the night after the run-in with the giants, but she never welcomed his company. Sometimes, during the daylight hours, he could trade meaningless words with her. Words about the giants, the terrain, how much time left until they reached the bridge. Nothing about Telmara, and nothing about why she left so suddenly. The one time he attempted to broach the subject, Rose shut herself away so quickly he was left standing stunned and chilled to the core. He'd concluded she didn't want his help, and he didn't think he should force it onto her.

Rose's behavior is worrying him, and he has no idea what to do. Caspian knows she needs time to mourn, but she doesn't seem to be taking it. Her nightly vigils leave her ever more exhausted, she won't speak of her pain, and she prefers to pretend that nothing's happened. Caspian is beginning to think she shouldn't be here on the quest, but who is he to tell her to go? He also knows she may need this, need the distance from the city and something else to focus on. He can give her that - he has to.

They've reached the bridge today, set over two dizzying cliffs that make Eustace squeak a little when they first come to it. The distant roar of the river below does little to soothe him.

"Oh come on Scrubb, it's only a bridge!" Jill exclaims crossly.

"Last time we came to a cliff you threw me off," the blond boy fires back, his complexion still tinted grey. "Excuse me for being cautious."

"For the last time, I did not throw - "

"That's enough now." Rose cuts in, thank the Lion, but she sounds so weary that Caspian can't help but glance over with barely-hidden concern. Has she been getting any sleep at all?

"We'd best keep on," Caspian says quickly, before the children start again. He knows it annoys Rose when they keep at each other's throats. "We'll rest for a few moments on the other side."

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but we ought to be careful with a bridge like that. Could just as easily be a sorcerer's bridge as a giant's bridge. Enchantment and tricks are all abound these days. Why, those stones may well melt under our feet once we've gotten halfway across." Puddleglum says this rather proudly, as if he's pleased that he's thought of the possibility at all. Well, if the Marshwiggle is trying to sober up about life, as he put it, he's doing a rather fine job.

"As welcome as your counsel may be," Caspian answers as diplomatically as possible, "I can assure you this bridge is quite safe. I crossed it myself, many years ago."

Puddleglum perks up and replies all too happily. "That's precisely my point, Sire. That was many years ago. This witch prowling the country may well have put a spell on the bridge in case we were ever to wander this way. Adventures are full of that sort of mischief."

"Oh don't be such a wet blanket, there's no reason she'd have done anything of the sort," Eustace says. Caspian gets the impression the boy is trying to be much braver than he feels, but at least he's not that awful grayish-green anymore. "And besides, this adventure hasn't been nearly so bad as you've been saying."

"Let's just get over the bridge," Rose cuts in, "and then you can continue snapping at each other over nothing."

Sighing to himself, Caspian leads his companions onward before they can say anything else. It's an impressive, though crumbling, structure, that speaks of a greater time long gone. The stones are twice as wide as Caspian is tall, and most have the remains of ancient carvings weathered into the faces. Carved images of giants, minotaurs, dreadful gods, and even centipedes stare back at the travelers. Puddleglum would no doubt have a thing or two to say about the tale told on these stones, but the wind blows harsher and harsher with every step they climb - even if he had words, they'd drown against the air. And even better, a good deal of the stones are missing. It makes for a dreadful time, climbing when the wind seems to shake the very bridge loose, but it also takes concentration and that also works to silence everyone.

Glancing back, Caspian finds Eustace surprisingly composed, only a little grayer and sweatier than before. The boy might be having a rather rough time of it, but he never says anything, and he hides his discomfort well. Caspian slows down and waits until Eustace catches up before continuing. He seems to be fine, but the company of a friend is rarely unwelcome in that sort of discomfort.

Eustace starts to attempt a conversation, but the wind whips away his words and Caspian can't even pretend to have heard. So they soldier on, fighting the gusts of cold all the way. The worst bit is when they crest the top of the arch. The wind whips about mercilessly, the cold cuts down to the bone - it's all they can do just to keep their footing. An eagle soars under their feet, visible through one of the larger gaps, and Eustace turns a bit green again.

"Halfway across and no spells yet, Puddleglum," Jill shouts over the whipping wind as they descend the zenith.

"That's to lure us in," Puddleglum calls back, grim as ever. "We'll be turned to piles of ash the moment we make to step off this bridge. And even if we don't, there's no telling what sort of enchantments may be on the road ahead. That's the way of - "

"Adventures. Yes, we know!" Well, Eustace must be feeling better. The green tint has left his face, and even the grey is leaving. The boy's much hardier than he was on the _Dawn Treader,_ and fondness wells in Caspian at the memories.

He glances over at Rose, expecting a retort from her. But she remains focused on the stones beneath her feet, and no quip falls from her lips. Caspian wishes he could go to her, but he knows better. Not now, not in front of the others. Perhaps tonight.

* * *

With the Giant bridge behind them, they only have to find their way through the mountains to get to the City Ruinous. Caspian can only hope they can find the writing Aslan spoke of. The difficulty, presuming they can avoid more giants and the occasional hunting parties of Harfang, will be the ominous clouds ahead. They look like snow, and if it turns into a storm then the trek through the mountain passes will be cold and miserable. Caspian's not entirely confident that he'd know the way in the middle of a snowstorm, and he has no desire to be lost in Giant country. He pushes them onward longer than perhaps he should, but the closer they can get to the city before the storm hits the better.

There's relief all around when he finally relents. Well, from all except Rose. She's kept a tighter silence than usual today, and she won't break it for anything - not Jill's stories, not Eustace's recollections of the _Dawn Treader_ , not for Puddleglum's pessimism. Not for him, either. She's as silent as a grave.

As always, Rose leaves the group the moment dinner is finished for her solitude. Caspian's gaze follows her, tracing the ever-more prominent slump of exhaustion in her shoulders, the growing bow in her back. He had hoped that leaving Rose alone as she wished would help, but now she seems to worsen more than ever. Caspian can't stand by and do nothing, not when she's practically melting away in front of his very eyes. He can't presume to know what she needs, but Caspian is done waiting for Rose to get better on her own. For tonight, at least, she won't be alone to torment herself. For that is what she does - he knows her, and he knows that she blames herself for Darin's murder. Why else would she punish herself so? Why else would she only nibble at dinner when he heard her stomach grumble only minutes prior? No; tonight, he can't leave her to her grief.

Caspian waits until the children are asleep and Puddleglum's snores are loud enough to drown out even the voices of gods. Rose sits a little ways off, huddled against a grey rock almost as tall as her. He watches her for a few moments, just to be sure she hasn't fallen asleep. If by some miracle she has, he has no intention of waking her.

But no, she shifts in her seat, rattling a few pebbles as she moves. So Caspian gets up from his bedroll and pads to her on the quietest feet he can manage. She was always much better at stealth than he was.

"Must we do this again?" Her voice startles him, and now the pebbles dance for Caspian's boots. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat and tries to think of what to say. While he's struggling, Rose speaks again, in that same worn tone that makes him wish that she'd never come with him so she wouldn't be going through this. "There's nothing you can do, Caspian. Go back to bed, please."

This is the gentlest she's yet been with him. Caspian finds the courage, at last, to speak.

"I can't do it, Rose." Caspian wets his lips and tries to keep from crossing his arms. They tremble at his side. "I can't watch you do this, night after night. I can't see you in so much pain and do nothing."

Caspian pauses, waits for an answer from her. He's nervous about what it might be, but better for her to speak and send him away again than sit there silently as if he never spoke at all.

"I'm frightened for you." The words spill out before he can stop them, even before he's thought them. Caspian wonders if he should take them back. Rose still sits in silence, unmoving as a statue. Did she hear him? Is she pretending she didn't?

Caspian swallows his nerves with a gulp of air for his tightening lungs and sits beside her on the rocky ground.

She is truly a statue now; she sits as if frozen by magic or time, and she won't look at him. On a wild impulse, Caspian decides to try his luck tonight. Something is pressing in on his chest, demanding he stay with her, ordering him not to leave her to her own devices again because she needs him. Caspian isn't at all sure about that last bit - Rose has never needed anyone, though wanting is a different story - but the thoughts keep him rooted beside her.

Caspian's hand rises and floats to rest on Rose's shoulder very much of its own accord. She'll likely push him away, and yet Caspian can't seem to make his hand return to his side. It stays there, glued gently to the grieving woman next to him. She stiffens, pulls away for awful moments.

"Just for tonight," Caspian hears himself whispering. "Please, Rose, just for tonight."

She stops shying away. A flicker of hope dances through Caspian's chest, and he hardly dares to breathe.

Rose returns to her position before, making up the inches she moved away.

Caspian's heart stutters. He wants to look over at her, wants to meet her eyes and see how far her acceptance goes, but she still keeps her face turned away. Caspian decides to press his luck anyway. He settles into his pebbled seat and curls his arm around her waist. Little warmth radiates from her, much less than he's used to, and he wonders just how cold she's been, sitting so far away from the group night after night. He doesn't want her to ever be cold again. Caspian's arm tightens, pulls her to him with a tenderness he didn't know he had.

Rose's head tilts to rest against his shoulder. Her cheek is cool through his shirt.

She whispers something, so softly that Caspian can't quite hear what she actually says, but it sounds very much like a repetition of his words from before. "Just for tonight," he thinks she's whispering against his shoulder, breath clouding in the cold. Yes, just for tonight. Caspian's not so much a fool to believe he'll be allowed to comfort her like this more than once in a lifetime. Yet, some stubborn piece of him wishes it could be more than this one night. Now that she's allowed him to keep her from her loneliness, he doesn't want to return her to its cruel clutches any time soon. He's glad that the hours until morning are many.

Rose's breaths even out slowly over the hours, and when Caspian finally musters the resolve to look down into her face, he's met with closed eyes. Has she...? Yes, by the Mane she has, and Caspian dares not even breathe too deeply. He sits there, paralyzed for fear of waking her. He's not sure, but he suspects this is the first real sleep she's had in over a week.

After a little while, Caspian feels her trembling, shivering. He shouldn't, but he pulls her closer anyway. It does stop her shivering. The hours pass, with her hair tickling his chin, until the sky lightens and Rose starts to stir. Only when the sun floods the horizon does she fully awake.

Caspian wants to ask if she'll be all right, but Rose won't meet his eyes. Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum haven't woken yet, thank the Lion, but they won't stay asleep for much longer. The Marshwiggle is an early riser, at least on adventures. Caspian still has a few minutes to try and convince her not to shut him out again.

"Rose - "

"It won't happen again."

Her whispered words are exactly what he expected, but his heart sinks just the same. Caspian can't cling to the foolish hope that she might not pull away when she's so blatantly doing it now.

"You don't have to push me away."

Rose hesitates in her haste to walk away, almost as if she might reply. Caspian doesn't realize he's holding his breath until she walks away without looking back.

Throughout breakfast and on into the morning, Rose won't - perhaps can't - even look at him. It seems now that she allowed him to comfort her, she has to ice him out more than ever before. Guilt starts to prick at Caspian's conscience as the group continues on through the mountains. He wants to apologize, though he's not sure what exactly he'd be apologizing for. Comforting her? But he can't be sorry for that, not when she finally slept.

* * *

They press on, ever closer to the Ruined City, as the clouds thicken with the promise of snow. The temperature seems to drop more every hour, and if the clouds reach them it's very likely they will have a blizzard on their hands. Caspian knows that Jill and Eustace would fare rather poorly in such weather, in spite of their best intentions. He hasn't heard of any blizzards in England.

It's a long, trudging sort of day, one where the wind itself seems to push them back. Caspian keeps them going as long as he can, but by sundown they haven't made nearly as much progress as he wanted, and the clouds loom ever closer. The snowstorm could be upon them as early as tomorrow, and it simply isn't possible to reach the Ruined City before then. It's a melancholy evening, one spent huddled around the first fire Caspian's allowed. It's a risk, but the children need the warmth, and he hopes that the cave they found for the night will keep the smoke from being too horribly obvious.

Rose tries to block the entrance with him, though stones are little help. Caspian is hoping she won't retreat to the edge of the campsite again, that she'll at least take advantage of the warmth of the fire.

But she says, "With that fire, you need someone on watch more than ever," and sits with the stones for company. Alone, in her self-imposed solitude.

Caspian tries to sit with her again. He gets close enough to see the shivers racking her body.

"It was just for last night. Go back to the fire," Rose says, stopping him from advancing further. His heart sinks at the tremor in her voice. She must be cold, so far from the fire.

He tries not to sigh as he leaves her be. Pushing her does not usually end well, and moreover, Caspian is still unsure what she needs from him. He has no wish to contribute to her loneliness, but he can't worsen her guilt either. Refusing comfort may be a comfort to her itself. But still, he wishes she wouldn't.

* * *

The next day, on the road, Caspian finally decides that enough is enough. Rose may not want to take care of herself, but today she's stumbling more than walking and with the threat of a snowstorm within the next few hours, Caspian simply cannot wait for her to grieve differently. She won't last long in a blizzard, and he refuses to lose her to the weather. If the snake didn't steal her life away, it would be foolish to let winter do it right in front of him.

Caspian knows well Rose will not speak to him at all if anyone else can hear - she's always been stubbornly private. So he sends the children and Puddleglum off to catch any fowl they can find and ignores the impending snow.

"Snow is coming," Caspian begins, mouth dry with apprehension. Rose won't take this well, he knows, but it's got to be done. "You need to rest, Rose. You won't be any good in a storm."

Rose shrugs and refuses to meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

Lion, how he's tried to be patient with her. He wants to be patient with her still, but if she continues like this it's almost certain she will take ill. Caspian tells her so, and his only reward is a stiffening of her jaw. Rose is angry, but what else can he do? He cannot lose her, and especially not here.

"I know you're not. Darin wouldn't want this."

"Darin's not here," Rose bites back. But he hears the pain underneath the anger, understands that being angry is the only way she's holding herself together.

"He would be even more worried than I am." Perhaps he shouldn't push her so. But one glance up at the sky keeps Caspian's determination up. At the very least, Rose needs to rest.

Rose looks down at the ground, and Caspian wonders if she's fighting tears like he thinks she is. "Don't presume," she says, with far less of the bite than Caspian was expecting.

"I don't wish to," Caspian manages. "But - "

"All right," Rose interrupts in a whisper. "I'll rest. Tonight."

Caspian wishes very much that he could believe her. If she were meeting his gaze, he'd know she meant it. But still, she looks anywhere at all but him, and he knows she has no intention of actually resting. She'll lie silently without allowing herself to sleep. It's her way.

"I meant my words last night. I'm frightened for you, that's all."

Rose practically shrugs away the words - she turns away from him and starts walking. "A storm's coming, yes? We shouldn't waste time."

There's little to be done, because Caspian does not want to push her any more today. Perhaps tonight, he can try again, but for now she's right. With the threat of snow, best to keep going and give her some time to consider what he's said.

* * *

Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum didn't get too far, and it's a short walk to catch up. Rose stays stubbornly ahead, almost as if she's trying to prove her strength. Caspian wishes she wouldn't, but he's not about to order her otherwise. It's not his place - he's already said his piece.

"There you are! Oh we've got some wonderful news!" cries Jill when she spots them approaching. The young girl sprints to meet Caspian and Rose, looking far more cheerful than she's been since the quest began.

"Good news is welcome," Rose answers before Caspian can. "We're all in need of it, I think."

"We've come by a bit of good counsel," says Eustace.

"And from a most lovely lady too!" Jill pipes in. "Since winter's a-coming, she told us of these wonderful Gentle Giants who live in Harfang. They're quite the opposite of those beastly things we met in Ettinsmoor."

"And all we've got to do is reach Harfang rather close to noon, else the doors will be locked. There's to be an Autumn Feast," says Eustace.

Now Caspian likes the sound of this less and less the more the children prattle on, and he finds himself agreeing with Puddleglum's sentiment straightaway.

"Not that we know a thing about this lady, or what her business be in Giantland. She's bound to be up to no good, Sire. And that silent chap with her, an armored knight that mayn't have been a knight at all."

"Oh Puddlelglum, do stop all this nonsense," comes Eustace's cry before Caspian can get a word in. "You've said nothing but how awful adventures are, and none of it's been nearly so bad as you've been saying. There's no harm in getting a hot bath and a warm room for the night."

Caspian has his own ideas about just how trustworthy a lady in the wilds of the North might be, but Rose suddenly straightens, eyes glistening with some strange emotion Caspian can't quite name. It's a gleam of revenge, of anger, of pain, of sorrow, of resolve - so many things at once he's not sure if it's all of them or none of them.

"What did she look like, this lady you met?" Rose asks, with a chill to rival the incoming winter storm in her voice.

Jill answers with ease. Can she really be oblivious? Is the idea of hot soup so seductive?

"Well, she was quite pretty, and she trilled her r's so delightfully. And what a scrumptious dress she had!"

Rose's eyes gleam again with that strange light that steals Caspian's words away. "What color?"

"Why, just the most vibrant green you've ever seen," says Jill.

At once, Caspian understands why Rose has slowly gotten the look of a murderess.

"You fools!" he cries. "That lady is the witch who stole my son!"

* * *

 **I do love a cliffy every now and then...Also I'm about to drop so stopping here to sleep before going to the doctor's in the morning seems like a good idea.**

 **Do leave a review if you get the chance, I love hearing from my readers! :)**


	13. Chapter 12

**What better way to start a late chapter than with some news? The good news is this: I'm not abandoning the story, and we're approaching the end of the complete re-writes that required me to start from scratch. The eh news: I probably won't have a new chapter up for another few weeks at bare minimum, probably more like the end of the semester. Why, you may ask? Well it's my last year of undergrad and I REALLY need to get my life together so I can properly adult come summer.**

 **For Morelia, let's just hope I can get just one more chapter done before 2017...if any of you have any brilliant ideas on how to force the Almighty Muse to focus on this story, do let me know. Actually, motivation to just write something, anything, is probably more needed...**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **(Rose POV)**

Jill and Eustace whiten at once. Eustace stands as still as ice and stares at Caspian's dawning rage. Jill tries to get words past her lips, but all that comes out is a strangled sort of blubbering. I watch Caspian's reddening face in silence, and when he starts shouting about finding the witch the words just fade away into the frosty air. Some awful sort of weight, a choking, breaking pressure keeps me in place. Darin's body dances in and out of my vision, the two puncture marks of a snake standing out as bright as twin flames. My arms tremble at my side, and my legs won't move even when I tell them to. I want...I want to follow her, find her, make her pay for...

The weight presses harder, and my stomach rolls. I want him back, that's what I really want.

"Rose, come on!"

That's Caspian. I should move, I should go help him. But how to make my legs move, when they only want to buckle beneath me and cradle a body I know isn't there? Those bite marks flicker in my vision, taunting me. Isn't this what I wanted? To avenge him, find some peace in making the witch pay for stealing him from me? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?

I remember Rilian, and Caspian calls to me again. We're meant to be searching for him, rescuing him. But at this moment, all I want to do is rescue the one person I know can't be rescued at all.

Normally, this sort of incapacitation happens at night. Gritting my teeth, I push the ghosts from my mind. I'm not going to be weak, not now when she's so close...

She's close. At last, this fact clicks in my mind and propels me after Caspian, my feet pounding relentlessly against the frozen ground. Maybe we can still catch her. If only Caspian hadn't been so foolishly concerned with my health we might have seen her ourselves! Bitterness squeezes at my chest, sours in my stomach. He should know by now that I can take care of myself.

I catch up to him quickly, the winter air sharp in my lungs. We race together over the plains, frost flying up at our heels and soaking into my shoes. We search for her, for an odd spot of green against a barren landscape. We soon split up, the better to cover more ground. In truth, I'm a bit relieved to gain distance from Caspian's cursing.

For hours we search, until the first flurries of the impending storm float down. Nothing. Were it not for the ridiculous star-struck words of the children, it wouldn't be so hard to believe they'd imagined the whole thing. No sign of anyone do we find, not even a hoof print to mark the passing of her steed. No knights, no ladies, no horses, no signs of anything but a blizzard on its way. That sour, bitter feeling settles deep in my stomach, and it's not just the snow or wind that chills me to the bone. How could she disappear so thoroughly? She couldn't have had more than half an hour's head start.

When the snow starts whipping about in earnest, Caspian has no choice but to call off the search. The acerbity in his voice snaps me from my daze. This is the closest I've seen him to hate.

"We're terribly sorry," says Jill when the five of us are together again, trudging through snow that deepens every moment. "If we'd known..." The poor girl trails off, words lost to the swirling storm.

"Come now, Pole, it's not as if we could expect any better. Why, in this storm, she'll likely sneak up on us and kill us quick as you please." Good old Puddleglum, always finding a way to make things sound even worse. This time his melancholy mutterings actually appeal to me, if only for the thought of being put out of misery.

"There's little to be done now, I suppose," Eustace shouts over the storm. "Best press on, and find that castle. Harfang, wasn't it? I daresay we could use the warm baths."

Caspian answers with a voice as cold as the wind pushing us about. "We will do no such thing."

"Even for the Autumn Feast?" Jill's voice sounds incredibly small, and for a moment I almost pity her. Guilt and exhaustion are heavy things to carry, especially in such serious company.

"Especially for the Autumn Feast!" Caspian booms. His anger sends chills racing over my arms; he's always been much gentler with the children, and it's almost frightening to see this fierceness from him. "That witch has no other goal than to destroy my country, and rest assured our demise would please her greatly!"

"Caspian," I whisper, laying a frost-white hand on his shoulder. "They're only children." I hope the snow keeps my words from reaching the others, but I suppose calming Caspian is more important than anything right now.

"Even children should know better." Caspian shakes my hand away and refuses to look at me. I like Jill and Eustace much less than he does, but I'm not sure he's being fair. They didn't know, and what good could a child's sense be against the magic of a witch? And besides, finding her will not bring Darin back, nor Lilliandil.

I leave Caspian alone at the head of our little group and fall in next to Jill. She's shivering horribly, and pale with more than cold. Perhaps the witch has some magic hold on her still? Or perhaps this adventure is just more than she ever bargained for, more than she was ready for.

"Don't worry too much, Jill. I think you probably couldn't help it. You're not used to magic."

Jill shrugs, but her shoulders don't slump quite so far. I still want to try and ease her guilt, though I'm not entirely sure where this sudden streak of compassion is coming from.

"Come on, let's think of something else. What are the signs Aslan told you to remember?" Thinking of Aslan should help.

To my surprise, Jill stops in her tracks and lets out a little wail through her fingertips. "Oh Rose, I think...I can't...oh dear, I can't recall them!"

Poor Jill is almost as white as the snow gusting around us. I steel my features against disappointment and try to calm her, stilling her hands from flapping around her neck.

"Of course you can," I call, straining to make my voice heard above the wailing of the wind. "The first one was to find an old friend, remember?"

Jill shivers and wraps her arms around her chest, tucking her fingertips under her arms.

"Come on, Pole," Eustace chimes in with blue lips all a-tremble. "Second one was to...to...blast it. Oh! To travel north to the Ruined City."

"And the third was to find writing in the city and to do what that writing tells us." Jill slowly brightens, looking less and less like a defeated puppy. "Yes, I'm remembering now. And the last is how we're to know Prince Rilian - that he shall be the first in our travels to ask us to do something in the name of Aslan."

"There you are, Jill," I say. "We've all remembered them, and we're on our way to finding the city now."

* * *

By sundown the snow storm has escalated to a full blizzard. We can barely see our hands in front of our faces, and so we walk arm in arm so no one will be lost. With the howling wind, even shouts are hard to hear.

Not even the thick winter cloaks we brought help much - they've been soaked through, leaving bitter wet cold to cling to our skin. Jill shivers violently to my right, and even Caspian on my left can't keep from shaking.

I've no idea how we can expect to find a city in the midst of this. We can barely see each other.

Caspian, formerly so confident, has to stop many times. He peers this way and that, and each time we stop the Giant city feels further and further away. We'll accomplish nothing until the snow ceases.

"Caspian," I yell. The cold bites at my throat. "We should stop."

Twice I try to tell him we need shelter, that this whole enterprise is useless until the snow stops. But he presses on still, tugging me along when I try to stand still and make him listen.

Eventually we do stop, hours later. It takes a long time to find any kind of shelter - and we find only a ring of boulders slightly larger than me to hunker down behind. It shields us from the brunt of the wind, but I worry we'll be buried alive by the time we wake.

The five of us bed down pressed up against each other for warmth, and I wind up curled into Caspian's chest. Neither of us really sleeps.

* * *

The blizzard keeps up for several days, as best I can estimate. Minutes feel like hours in this weather, the worst kind of winter I've experienced. Even in Telmara, we never had storms this terrible.

The snow begins to let up, just enough that we can see each other without traveling arm-in-arm. The scenery starts to change from flat and rocky to steep slopes and strange cliffs on looming ahead. The ground, already slippery, steepens dramatically, leaving the five of us to stumble and slip on ice. The banks ahead are at least as tall as Puddleglum, perhaps a bit taller, and go on as far as I can see on either side. There's nothing for it - we'll have to climb.

So climb we do, one bank after another. Puddleglum and Caspian give the children a boost first, then me. Caspian follows, and the four of us haul Puddleglum to the top last. It's a terrible frigid business, and we're constantly slipping and sliding about. The snow gives us some traction, but the ice underneath is unforgiving. The children are positively miserable.

For a brief moment, it occurs to me that these strange, steep ledges are more like stacked blocks, almost like stairs. But then Jill slips and almost falls over the ledge, and it's back to struggling up, up, always up against the wind and the snow that sometimes plops from the ledge above onto our heads. The thought, whatever it was, is gone as quickly as it came.

It doesn't get any better. Once we've cleared the ledges, we've only just enjoyed the flat ground when Jill disappears from sight with a scream and a rush of snow and sludge.

"Jill!" I sprint forward at once with Puddleglum at my side, and we skid to a stop where the snow has given way and taken Jill with it.

"Pole?" Eustace rushes to the edge, his sudden stop sending puffs of snow hurling into the trench.

"What devilry is this?" Caspian mutters as he comes to stand beside me. A chasm several feet deep yawns before us, Jill only just visible in the dark.

"I'm all right!" she calls. "Just some old trench. Oh, but it _is_ so much nicer out of the wind!"

A particularly violent gust of wind shoves me toward the very edge, and Puddleglum just barely catches my cloak before I tip over and join Jill. But Eustace perks up and jostles Caspian beside me.

"How's about using that trench to travel?" the boy shouts, barely heard over the screaming of the blizzard. "As Pole said, it'd be awfully nice to get out of this wind. And look, it runs due north!"

"A fine idea. We can't see anything up here anyway," I offer. It's a steep drop, but the temptation of relief from the worst of the blizzard is too seductive to ignore.

"Begging your pardon," says Puddleglum, having only just let go of my cloak. "But we had best draw our swords. No telling what sorts of monsters might be lurking about down there. Why, they've probably got the same idea as us. I shouldn't wonder if we stumble over some poor chap's bones on our way."

"Oh stop it!" Eustace answers rather crossly. "What sort of monster would be out in weather like this? It might be a sunken road of some sort. I say, Pole, is there any snow down there?"

"Not very much at all," Jill calls back. "It all blows over the top, I suppose."

Caspian speaks up for the first time since Jill fell in. "Where does it lead?"

"Half a sec. I'll go and see." Jill follows the trench onward only to shout back, "There's a sharp turn up ahead. I don't think it leads anywhere much." Jill's voice shakes just a little.

"Very likely it leads into a dragon's cave," Puddleglum offers. "Or perhaps a monster's lair. We've likely woken it already, I shouldn't wonder."

Eustace appears to lose his patience rather quickly. "Oh hang it all! I'm jolly well having a look," he says while sliding down into the trench in a small avalanche of snow and slush. "I'd like to know what you mean by anywhere much."

"Eustace!" I shout after him. I don't usually put much stock in Puddleglum's miserable mutterings, but here in Giant country I'd rather not take my chances. Dragons are out of the question, but monsters might not be. Or perhaps it's just this terrible blizzard muddling with my head.

But the blond boy is disappearing around the sharp bend with Jill tight on his heels, hunched over and looking rather like someone who is quite nervous and trying very hard not to appear so.

"That's the end of those two, I suppose," says Puddleglum, his hat flopping down over his eyes and blowing snow flurries into my face. "We'll hear a good scream, from Scrubb as likely as Pole, and we'll be down to three."

I try to tune him out, but Caspian's face is reddening. He's either very cold or very quickly losing patience with Puddleglum's morose commentary. "Puddleglum, please," I say. "You're not really helping."

"That's the spirit," says the Marshwiggle, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Now we're sure to get into another row. Why I shouldn't be surprised if I froze out here tonight. I would be ever so grateful if you both could lay me to rest peacefully, though I'm sure the rations will have disappeared in the snow and you'll be forced to consider certain abominable ends for my remains."

Before I can figure out how to calm Caspian, he's exploding. "That is quite enough!" he thunders. "Puddleglum, if your only use is thinking of the worst, I beg you find another -"

"It's a dead end!" Eustace's call breaks what was sure to be a nasty row, or at the very least a nasty suggestion.

I breathe a sigh of relief and grasp Caspian's forearm. He shrugs away.

"There were two other corners, and none of them led anywhere," Jill adds, still hunched over and looking a bit unnerved. "I suppose it's back to the storm."

Puddleglum wastes no time in pulling the two children up the snow bank. They both curl into themselves at the new onslaught of the storm, looking like they would give anything to go back into that trench.

"Now Caspian," Eustace begins with chattering teeth. "Hear me out. I know you've not had the best experiences with Giants, but Harfang -"

At once, Caspian's remaining thin patience snaps. "Harfang?!" he bellows. "Fools! Those Giants would sooner eat you than feed you!"

"At the very least, one wouldn't be so cold boiling alive in someone else's stew!" Jill looks very close to tears, with her lip all a-tremble and her face all scrunched up. I feel a brief flash of pity for her.

"Here, let's take some rest in the trench," I cut in before Caspian can reply. "Before you all tear each other's throats out."

Jill sniffles. "And how are we to get back out again?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Pole. We can scramble out well enough."

"Supposing we aren't buried in snow, that is."

With Puddleglum's unwelcome reminder of the blizzard attempting to flay our skin from our bones, our miserable little group slides down into the trench. At once, the wind ceases to assault us so. Even the bitter cold seems just a little better being out of the brunt of the storm.

Caspian leads us to the first corner, the one Jill was so nervous about, and there we bed down. It may or may not be night, but we're all tired. Even so, Caspian's eyes are heavy on me. I know I promised to get some rest tonight, but even a blizzard hasn't tempted me with sleep. I'll just lie still and pretend, at least until Caspian's asleep.

Unfortunately, he takes the watch. He brushes past me as he moves to the outside of our tight little circle, no doubt to remind me of my promise. I avoid his gaze but make a point of not contesting him. There's been enough squabbling for one day. I lie down, but as I expected sleep eludes me.

Halfway through the night, Eustace comes to relieve Caspian. To my surprise, Caspian agrees, and within moments he's bedding down right beside me, blocking some of the cold. Perhaps it's the new warmth that finally lulls me off to sleep, or perhaps it's those strange moments right before sleep when my mind tells me it's Darin's hand on my back. Whatever the case, I wake slowly some time later, with a fresh pang of grief when I remember where I am and who is not sleeping beside me. But the absence of my husband is almost forgotten when I notice the two empty spots where Jill and Eustace should be.

They're gone.

* * *

 **There were times I thought this chapter would never get done...It's a relief to finally have it done. My apologies if it's not completely up to par, it's been really rough trying to hammer this one out.**

 **Reviews always appreciated :)**


	14. Chapter 13

**I think the rest of these chapters will be late, unless something magical happens this July. I apologize, it's the best I can do with the craziness of senior year. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can.**

 **And of course, thank you so much to GilGalen and Eosneve for reviewing last chapter! I wasn't expecting anything after such a long update gap. You guys are the best!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **(Caspian POV)**

The fools have gone to Harfang and to their deaths.

Caspian scrambles out of the trench on his hands and knees on the desperate chance that the two children haven't gotten far. But though the blizzard has calmed, Jill and Eustace are nowhere in sight. Even the tracks they must have left are blown away, obliterated by the miserable weather.

"Any sign of them?" Rose calls. Her hand is warm on his shoulder, even through the winter air.

Caspian bites his tongue against a sharp retort and settles for a grim shake of his head. "None. The snow covered their tracks."

"We'll be joining them, I gather?" Puddleglum emerges from the trench with the remainder of their supplies in tow. "After all, it would be terribly inconsiderate to leave them on their own in the stewpot."

Caspian nearly cracks a smile, even though nothing in this situation is very funny at all. "The Giants of Harfang prefer to eat man-meat in pies. Though you, my dear Marshwiggle, may yet escape their clutches. Marshwiggles are considered to have a terrible flavor." Caspian realizes that he's being quite morose, but the odd urge to chuckle remains.

Rose stares at him like he's finally and truly lost his mind, but Puddleglum merely nods along. "Ah, but surely those Giants have some creative sorts of spices. Best to put a bold face on it, Your Majesty - we're all quite sure to be piecemeal in the Giants' bellies by noon tomorrow." At this, Puddleglum smiles what is probably meant to be a merry, comforting smile but turns out quite a bit closer to a grimace. "But the bright side of it is, we won't be abandoning those children."

"Indeed," Rose answers, her mouth twisted unhappily. "Let's be off before you think of any other bright sides."

Caspian is quick to follow on her heels, regretting very quickly his decision to practically crawl up the trench and soak his breeches and sleeves clean through. "If we hurry," he says, "we can reach the gate before it closes."

Puddleglum joins them quickly, though it seems he still hasn't said his fill. "And we must tell them we've been sent for the Autumn Feast, just as that witch said," the Marshwiggle states. "We'd be sorry chaps indeed if we forgot our manners even in the face of the stewpot."

"The pie dish, you mean." Rose's voice is odd, as if she can't decide whether to be amused or terrified. When Caspian glances over at her, she's gnawing at her bottom lip with her mouth quirked in an unwilling half-grin and her eyes cold with fear.

* * *

The storm worsens again as the trio make their way across a giant flat-topped hill to Harfang. Its deceptively welcoming lights glimmer in the distance, bright with the seductive promise of roaring fires and good food. At least, that's how the children must have seen it. Caspian sees the promise of danger. The children were willing to take the word of a witch over his.

Caspian's stomach practically boils, and not from hunger. Perhaps she used magic on them. Perhaps they couldn't really help it; after all, Eustace made it quite clear that their world didn't have such adventures as these. Jill in particular mustn't be used to trekking through blizzards and resisting evil spells. And Eustace's time on the _Dawn Treader_ clearly didn't teach him as much about magic as Caspian had hoped.

Out of nowhere, Rose stumbles and nearly falls on her face into the snow. Caspian curses, but she's righted herself before he can lift a finger to help.

"Rose?"

She shrugs away his concern, and suddenly Rose is about as warm as the blizzard.

"Oh dear," says Puddleglum. "We'll have quite the time trying to get away if one of us were to fall ill. Though at least one wouldn't have the sniffles after being cooked in a pie."

"As right as you are, do shut up." Rose grimaces though, and Caspian nearly lectures her then and there.

This is why he wanted her to take better care of herself. Quests are unpredictable beasts, and her weakness slows the entire group. Perhaps if they have time to linger at Harfang, he can see to it that she does as she promised.

* * *

Within a few hours, they arrive at the gate. Harfang itself is more like a large mansion than a house, and completely undefended by moat or guard. Caspian expected something a bit more austere, but perhaps the homeliness of this place is no accident; it's a tempting lure for poor human travelers. Though its numerous towers are imposing, the windows are rather close to the ground and the doors are spotted all over the structure, not just at the courtyard. The warm, fiery glow from the windows cuts through the storm and makes Harfang seem more like an oversized hybrid of the Telmarine castle and a countryside holiday house than a castle of dangerous, man-eating Giants.

Though Caspian considers himself to have a healthy store of courage, Puddleglum is the one who marches up to the huge doors and knocks for the porter. "Ho there, Porter! Guests seeking lodging," the Marshwiggle calls.

"Very bold, Puddleglum," Rose offers through clenched, chattering teeth.

The Marshwiggle knocks the snow from his hat brim as they wait. "We've got a put a bold face on all this, haven't we?"

Caspian claps Puddleglum on the back. "Quite so."

The door before them creaks open and a hairy, unpleasant-looking Giant stands before them.

"What sort of business do you have here?" he says, towering over them as tall as an apple tree.

Caspian attempts to look friendly. "Good day to you and salutations to the King of the Gentle Giants. We've been sent for the Autumn Feast. I believe our two youngest companions have already arrived?"

The Porter looks them up and down. In spite of himself, Caspian nearly squirms.

"Oh-ho!" booms the Giant, his mail shirt jingling. "A warm welcome then. Come in, come in. The King will be most pleased, most pleased indeed. Do come into the lodge."

Caspian takes Rose's hand in his without knowing why and strides into the homely lodge with his head held high.

"Blue faces from the cold, eh?" The Porter chuckles to himself as if sharing a private joke and ushers them toward a roaring fire consuming at least four trees. "Not naturally that color, I s'pose?"

Rose stares up at the red-haired Giant with unamused befuddlement. "No," she answers. "Of course they're not."

The Porter bellows a most unpleasant, bone-shaking laugh and gestures to another smaller, curly-haired Giant. Caspian stands closer to Rose, resting one hand on her back and the other on his sword hilt.

"Tell His Majesty that the Lady of the Green Kirtle has sent two more fair Southerners for the Autumn Feast, with her salutations," says the Porter, grinning to the young messenger rather eerily. The young Giant scurries off, leaving Caspian and his fellows with the Porter.

"Come on then," Puddleglum says unexpectedly. "We may as well gather close to the fire. Though we'll surely be scorched if we get too close, or if one of those oversized logs comes rolling out and squashes us."

Rose says nothing but she moves as close to the fire as she can manage, bringing Caspian with her. The heat is incredible, such that Caspian grows a bit worried their clothes will burst into flames if they move any closer. But Rose seems comfortable, huddled before the blaze with her hands extended and her face aglow.

"Well now," says the Porter, "You all look as though you could use a bit of cheering-up." The Giant produces a large, black bottle nearly as tall as Caspian, but otherwise rather like Puddelglum's bottle back at his wigwam. "Let me see. You'll drown yourselves if I give you a cup, even if the three of you work at it."

Rose casts a wary glance at the Porter, and Caspian doesn't feel much better. As pleasant as spirits would be to warm the belly, he would much rather have all his wits about him when meeting Harfang's Giant King. It would be a disaster if he were to blurt out his real name, for example. As the Porter casts about for a more appropriate vessel for the offered liquor, Caspian leans in very close to Rose and whispers as quietly as he dares.

"I can't give my proper name," he explains. "I'm not Caspian here."

Rose seems quite unsurprised. "Who are you then?"

Caspian racks his brain for a suitable moniker, but the best he can come up with is something with an X. "X...Xander?"

"Xander?" Rose hisses back. "What in the Lion's Mane kind of name is that?"

At once, the Porter unwittingly saves Caspian from further embarrassment. "I expect you three can make do with a salt-cellar. It should be just the thing, though I've only got the one. You needn't mention it over at the House." The Porter fills the make-shift cup to the brim and sets it on the floor between Puddleglum and Caspian.

Caspian frantically tries to think up some courteous excuse for refusing when Puddleglum picks up the cup.

"It's rather late to be thinking of precautions now that we're inside and the door shut behind us," says the admittedly plucky Marshwiggle. After giving the drink a good strong sniff, Puddleglum declares that though it smells just fine, it's nothing to go by. And just to make sure, Puddleglum takes one sip.

Caspian closely observes Puddleglum for any sign of magical disaster, but the Marshwiggle seems rather all right, if a bit flushed from the heat of the fire and the drink.

"Tastes all right," Puddleglum says of the drink. "But it might do that at the first sip. How does it go on? It simply wouldn't do for Your Majesty to contract some hideous enchantment or illness." Puddleglum takes quite a bigger sip than before, and again Caspian's fears go unfounded. Well, his fears of enchantment that is - he's still hideously worried that someone will have a bit too much and blurt out the whole quest to the King of Harfang. Rose, on the other hand, appears entirely absorbed in the fire and pays the whole business with the drink no mind.

"I do appreciate your great courtesy, Puddleglum," says Caspian. "But I wonder if it wouldn't be best - "

"You needn't worry yourself, Sire," says the Marshwiggle. "It tastes as fine as it smells. All the same, I had best be sure there's nothing nasty at the bottom." And before Caspian can say another word more, Puddleglum finishes the drink and goes rather glassy-eyed. "This'll be a test, you see. If I curl up, or burst, or turn into a lizard, then you and Rose will know not to take anything they offer you."

A bit too late, Caspian comes to the sudden, painful realization that Puddleglum is entirely ignorant of his make-do name for their time at Harfang.

"Puddleglum, I'm terribly sorry but I fear I may have neglected to mention something of great importance - "

"Why Froggy," the Porter interrupts with a great roar of laughter, "you're a man. See him put it away!"

Caspian tries to shake the vagueness from Puddleglum, but the Marshwiggle replies to the Porter instead, saying, "Not a man...Marshwiggle. Not frog either: Marshwiggle." And no matter how Caspian tries to get Puddleglum's attention, the old fool just keeps muttering "Marshwiggle" in that indistinct, wobbly voice.

"Respectowiggle," Puddleglum insists just as the young Giant returns and begins insisting that they must go to the throne-room at once.

The Porter's ugly, hairy face is all pinched, and he lets out sporadic, shouting roars of merriment. "Show them the way," the Porter says to the young messenger. "You'd better carry Froggy. He's had a drop more than's good for him."

Amidst Puddleglum's insistent mutterings that nothing at all is the matter with him and he's really a "repectabiggle," Rose darts to Caspian's side and suddenly looks quite worried.

"You didn't have any run-ins with the Gentle Giants during that war in Ettinsmoor, did you? You won't be recognized?"

Caspian grimaces. "It's a bit late for that," he whispers back. "But I believe they were all Ettins." He winds an arm around Rose's waist to steady her, and his own unease is mirrored on her face.

With Puddleglum caught in the messenger Giant's fist, Caspian and Rose hurry to keep up. Caspian rather wishes they could have spent a bit longer with the fire. Rose's hands are still rather cold, and the quick crossing through the courtyard does her no favors. Yet when Caspian tries to maintain his hold on her, Rose breaks away.

"I'm quite capable of walking, you know," she whispers sourly.

Caspian shakes his head at her stubbornness and hopes that Harfang proper is as warm as the Porter's lodge.

Thankfully, a few corridors later, Caspian finds himself in an enormous room with an even bigger fire blazing in the hearth. On either side of the group, countless Giants stand watching them with un-veiled curiosity. More than they could ever hope to take on in combat. Caspian is relatively sure he could take one or two with Rose's help, but there are many dozens, perhaps hundreds, here. And ahead, the two largest Giants of all sit on thrones thrice as tall as Caspian himself. The King of Harfang and his Queen.

The young Giant carrying a still-babbling Puddleglum stops perhaps ten paces away. Caspian bows simply, as a village man would, and Rose curtsies rather stiffly. The Giant beside them places Puddleglum on the floor. Caspian can't help but think that in spite of the Marshwiggle's nickname from the Giants, he really looks more akin to a large spider than a frog, with his spindly limbs splayed about haphazardly.

Caspian clears his throat, ready to repeat his greeting to the Porter, but Rose speaks just as he starts to open his mouth.

"Greetings, Sire. We follow our two younger companions who may have arrived here early this morning. The Lady of the Green Kirtle salutes you and has sent us for your Autumn Feast. If you'll have us."

The king and queen smile at each other in a rather sinister way, and Caspian gets the distinct notion that his guess of their being cooked into a man-pie might not have been off the mark at all. And when the king's large, obnoxiously red tongue lumbers out across his lips, Caspian has a terrible thought that they've come too late, that the Giants have already eaten Jill and Eustace and the three of them will follow before the day's end.

"Oh how good of you!" says the Queen. "How wonderful, that you have come to join those dear children."

Caspian nearly sags in relief, for had the children truly come to such a horrible end he simply would never have forgiven himself. But Aslan still watches over them, that much is clear.

"Quite so," says the King. "We welcome you to our court." The King extends his hand, which is nearly as large as Caspian's entire torso, and winds up shaking his and Rose's arms. When the gesture is complete, the King turns to Puddleglum, still sprawled on the floor. "And what is that?"

"Reshpecktobiggle," says Puddleglum.

The Queen lets out a shrill, ringing scream and clutches her skirts. "Oh, what a horrid thing! It's alive!"

"As strange as he looks, Your Majesty," Rose hurries to say, "he's quite a good soul."

"Quite so," Caspian chimes in. "He's only a bit muddled by the terrible cold we've come from. I do believe you may find him much more agreeable once he is himself again."

The Queen stares down at Puddleglum like one looks at a reprehensible cockroach right before squashing it, but her revulsion turns in their favor.

"Very well," shudders the Queen. "Just get it out of here. Oh do get it out! Take them to those dear children, their lovely companions. Well go on! Quickly!"

And so Caspian finds himself in the grasp of a Giant gentleman-in-waiting along with Puddleglum. Rose, naturally, is taken up by a Giant lady-in-waiting, and Caspian can only hope they are able to find each other later.

* * *

Caspian is not one to concern himself with age, but among the Giants age suddenly becomes a most pressing matter. Here he is, a grown man of well over forty years, being treated as "such a small thing" and "rather youthful for his age" (though how the Giants can guess at his age, Caspian has no idea.) His hair has just begun to show hints of silver, but aside from that and the worry lines in his brow, Caspian likes to think his age is not readily apparent. What he is most sure of is that he has done nothing, absolutely nothing in his life, to deserve such treatment as he is now receiving.

Caspian had high hopes that he would be roomed with Eustace or Puddleglum, perhaps even both of them, but he finds himself rather alone with a young, curly-haired Giant gentleman-in-waiting who insists on helping him out of his (admittedly worn) traveling clothes, into a luxurious bath, and then into thicker, obnoxiously green clothes. At the sight of the color Caspian nearly purples with rage, but contains himself at the last moment with a dim smile and muttered words of gratitude that, he realizes afterward, did not sound very grateful at all.

Thankfully, the Giant brings in a human-sized table and chair and Caspian's mood recovers at the sight of cock-a-leekie soup, roast turkey, steamed puddling, roast chestnuts and as much fruit as he could possibly eat. Caspian hesitates only a moment before tucking in, his hunger overriding his caution with disturbing ease. Every bite is delicious, and Caspian starts to understand the draw of Harfang. The witch spoke true of Harfang's virtues, that much cannot be doubted.

Unfortunately for Caspian, his gentleman-in-waiting keeps coming in and out bearing the most hideously colored toys, crudely made and insulting in their childishness. Caspian tries to tell the Giant that there's really no need for such oddities and that he's quite pleased with dinner and a bath, but the Giant harrumphs. The booming scoff is unsettling enough that Caspian does not protest again, no matter how much he wishes to. Instead, he settles for ignoring the ever-growing assortment of horses and play jousting spears, wooden swords and badly chipped helmets.

"There. Even older little people must want a bit of play-time, mustn't they?"

Caspian twists his mouth and tries not to look as insulted as he feels. He treats the Giant's absurd notion the same way he treated the unwanted toys.

The Giant then offers to tuck Caspian into bed, and Caspian tells the gentleman, as kindly as he can, that he'd prefer to tuck himself in and that such drawn-out goodnights are really much more trouble than they're worth. And so Caspian evades the indignity of being tucked into bed like a fussy child and loses himself to a fitful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **Well, they're at Harfang now. Any guesses how it's gonna go?**

 **As always, reviews are much appreciated!**


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